Someone Like Us
by lpdrunknmunky
Summary: Ishida Uryuu is a young psychiatrist specializing in uncommon mental disorders. When he meets new client Kurosaki Ichigo, he is sure the man is just another depressive youth struggling to find his place in the world. Then he meets the rest of him.
1. Enter Uryuu's Rowdy New Client

Title: Someone Like Us  
>Warnings: AU, graphic descriptions of violence, language, PTSDdepression, multiple personalities, UST, brief dubcon, explicit m/m sex, a racial slur, a cat  
>Summary: Ishida Uryuu is a young psychiatrist specializing in uncommon mental disorders. When he meets new client Kurosaki Ichigo, he is sure the man is just another depressive youth struggling to find his place in the world. Then he meets <em>the rest<em> of him.  
>AN: This is a much darker story than I usually write. It's inspired by Hollow!Ichigo and Kubo's intriguing dynamic of having two extra people inside of your mind at any given time. Especially when they don't always agree with how you're living your own life. For those dissuaded by the warnings, this story does actually have a nice ending, so don't expect <em>too<em> much angst. But still, not for the 'faint of heart' if you tend to be squeamish.

Suggested songs for this fic: "Angels" by Crywolf (T-Mass Remix), "Self Vs Self" by Pendulum ft. In Flames, "Days to Come" by Seven Lions ft. Fiora, & "Lighting Up the Dark" by Klaypex ft. Brandon Paddock.

* * *

><p>"Your four o'clock is here, Ishida-sensei."<p>

"My last appointment for the day was at two."

"It was a last-minute addition to the schedule, per the District Attorney's recommendation."

Uryuu's assistant Ise Nanao tosses him an impatient glance above her ovular glasses as she hands him the forest green file folder with a yellow tag indicating a new patient. He watches her march back out to the reception area and hears her politely advise the new client that the wait will be just a few minutes. Flipping the dossier open, Uryuu skims the information as he walks back to his desk, currently covered with a collection of research files he has been working on in his downtime.

"Kurosaki Ichigo, age twenty-seven," he mutters aloud to himself to better memorize the information quickly. "Occupation: nurse at 'Kurosaki Clinic'. Birthplace: Karakura Town. Reason for admittance…"

Eyes widening as he reads the short paragraph, Uryuu nearly drops the papers when someone suddenly stomps into his office and slams a hand flat to his oak desk. He jerks his head up fast enough to make his glasses slide down the slim bridge of his nose.

The man before him is immediately remarkable for several reasons. First, he appears to be infuriated to the point of physical confrontation. Uryuu's body tenses instinctively from years of martial arts and conflict management training. Next, this person has a striking appearance in the ways that he has disheveled orange hair, is over six feet tall in a country full of a shorter populace, and is also stunningly handsome. Finally, Uryuu deems him remarkable because he apparently has absolutely no qualms about causing a scene here at the risk of breaking his parole.

"It's all right, Ise-san," Uryuu tells the worried woman lurking in the entrance. She nods once and closes the door between them.

"What the fuck is your problem, man?" he shouts in a deep, rough voice indicative of a brief smoking addiction. "I've been waiting outside your office for twenty minutes already and you're just sitting in here reading some fucking papers like some kind of lame-ass _bookworm_! Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to make people wait? _Huh_!?"

Uryuu takes a slow breath and maintains eye contact with his fuming visitor. He has dealt with this before. Worse, actually. There have been a few instances where Uryuu has had to protect himself from imminent violence. That sort of thing comes with the territory when you do work for criminals and ex-convicts. Tapping his frames back into place, Uryuu lowers his eyes to fold the file shut and set it in place on one side of his desk. His fingertips meet in line with his sternum as he tilts his head up to look his new patient in the eye.

"Kurosaki Ichigo, I presume. Welcome. Please have a seat."

"Do I look like I want to have a god-damned seat, asshole?"

"Stand if you prefer," Uryuu magnanimously allows with a light shrug, "But please lower your voice, Kurosaki-san. There are other offices adjacent to mine."

"Lower my fucking—" Kurosaki ogles him incredulously, eyebrows shooting up towards his hairline. He gestures around the room with a wide-arcing arm and huffs a humorless laugh. "You think I give a shit about anyone else being inconvenienced right now?"

"Yes, I do, Kurosaki-san," Uryuu raises his voice to firmly state. His practiced authoritarian demeanor gets the man's attention enough to end his rant before it properly begins. "Because I know why you are here and I know that you do not want to exacerbate your situation if you wish to continue using your nursing license in the future."

He watches Kurosaki gape, then glare, then resentfully concede defeat. Some of the anger drains from his posture and Uryuu relaxes in tandem. Waiting, Uryuu releases a silent sigh when the man scoffs and rolls his eyes as he finally sits. In the seat furthest from Uryuu's current position and facing slightly away from him but towards the door, he notes. Already he is beginning to form a basic outline of Kurosaki's personality. From this five minutes of meeting, Uryuu gathers that he is the rebellious type. Smart but not used to thinking of himself as such. Independent yet vulnerable, seeking approval and affection that he has not experienced enough of thus far. Kurosaki has the instincts and tenacity of a warrior juxtaposed with the susceptibility and uncertainty of a lonely child.

Uryuu has seen it countless times. Someone who would normally be strong and confident is rendered meek and resentful from helpless anger and sadness. Kurosaki's wide brown eyes shine painful and desolate from years of cruelty and self-doubt, like a forgotten house pet. And this is the very reason that Uryuu takes these kinds of cases in the first place. Down to his very soul, he needs to help people. To see some of the injustices and miseries of this world lessened by his own hand. If he has a raison d'être, it is to diminish the suffering of misguided citizens like Kurosaki Ichigo.

"You gonna tell my P.O. about this?"

"No, Kurosaki-san," Uryuu assures him. Sympathy has already softened the minor offense and cleared it from his mind. "As your psychiatrist, I am obligated to keep our discussions in this office entirely confidential. Barring certain extenuating circumstances of which you are fully aware, as per the documents you signed upon arrival. That, by the way, is why you were made to wait twenty minutes."

"Okay, enough with this 'Kurosaki-san' bullshit," he grouses without conviction. "My old man is 'Kurosaki-san'. I'm Ichigo."

Surprisingly, that is a first. Uryuu has never had a client insist on being called by their first name. The idea makes him uncomfortable, however, so he decides to compromise.

"How about Kurosaki-kun?"

"I ain't your buddy, man."

"Then just plain Kurosaki should suffice." Uryuu slips up and allows some impatience to break through his professional conduct. He sees the mistake recognized in the way that Kurosaki's mouth twitches into a spiteful smirk. "If you don't mind."

"Don't strain yourself, Doc."

"It's Ishida Uryuu."

"'Then just plain Ishida should suffice'," he snottily mocks, smirk crossing into grin territory. Uryuu does something he knows he shouldn't: he smiles back. Not to throw Kurosaki off or to encourage him in any way, but because Uryuu realizes he is beginning to appreciate Kurosaki's rowdy personality. There is a distinctive cleverness in the way he cajoles. "Oh, looks like you're human after all."

"Unfortunately for you, Kurosaki."

"Unfortunately for _you_, Ishida."

And Uryuu beams internally with accomplishment; he has taken his patient down from irate to casual teasing in the span of minutes. Not bad for someone who has only been practicing for three years. Outwardly, he sobers and clears his throat in preparation to address the next topic. It's a sensitive one: the reason Kurosaki has been relegated to him by judge's orders. This is always one of the hardest parts because most people are unprepared to dive right into their issues at the outset. Yet, Uryuu needs to establish some things before he can agree to take Kurosaki as a client.

He uses this intermission to move from behind the barrier of his desk to the more open position of his grandfather's old armchair. Kurosaki shifts minutely but allows the decrease in distance. Allotting a moment for adjustment, Uryuu takes several measured breaths before diving into it. Kurosaki seems to do the same.

"I would like to discuss the recent incident you were involved in."

"What about it?" Kurosaki closes up, as expected. His scrunched brows dip further as he glares at Uryuu's numerous bookcases. He begins bouncing a leg agitatedly. "You want to hear about why I got arrested?"

"Yes."

"Fine. Your funeral. I'm sure you read all about how I attacked some innocent teenagers in the alley behind my apartment complex." Kurosaki's voice tightens with an intricate composite of emotions that he hides too well to parse at first listen. Uryuu's well-trained eyes and ears follow every nuance of speech, tone, cadence, and body language as he relates this difficult experience. "I'm sure you read that they were just minding their own business and that I ran over and started swinging. But that's not the fucking truth, Ishida! It didn't go down like that."

"How did it 'go down'?" Uryuu quietly encourages. He wasn't expecting this much from him so soon, but he is grateful for it. Establishing trust this early in their relationship could make counseling so much easier down the road. Although Uryuu suspects this is primarily possible because Kurosaki needs to talk about it. Needs to have someone understand and be on his side. "What really happened, Kurosaki?"

"Truth is those rotten little motherfuckers had a stray dog—a _pregnant female_—and they were poking her with sticks and kicking at her and shit. Those bastards cornered her against a wall and she was yelping…crying out because she was so scared and they were _laughing_. The poor animal wasn't even growling or snapping or anything like that. You could tell she used to be somebody's baby—" Kurosaki breaks off to glower at the floor and swallow back something heavy and oppressive. "And I saw one of them grab a glass bottle and break the bottom off…"

"They were going to attack her."

"Yeah," he snarls. Kurosaki curls his hands into fists on top of his thighs and Uryuu notes the contradictory slump of his spine. Signifying a desire to fight despite an overwhelming sense of powerlessness. "I heard one of them say something about _dissection _and I—I just fucking _lost it_. I don't remember dropping my groceries and running over to them. I don't remember grabbing the first one and knocking three teeth from his stupid mouth. I don't remember turning on the rest of them before they could run away."

Uryuu remains silent for a moment, integrating this. When he catches Kurosaki glancing at him from beneath his bright fringe, he says, "Memory loss is very common after traumatic events."

Kurosaki makes a face at that and Uryuu worries he said the wrong thing. But then he continues, "I guess. All I know is when I came to I had blood all over my knuckles. Four of the five brats were on the ground, passed out or screaming. I had the last one by his shirt, bleeding on my shoes and begging me to let him go. The cops came pretty soon after that."

Nodding slowly in comprehension, Uryuu observes the momentous relief that even this small bit of acceptance grants him. It presents in the way that Kurosaki's brow finally relaxes incrementally. The set of his shoulders loosens and his mouth smoothes into a neutral line rather than a deep frown. These are the types of things Uryuu likes to see. Those moments when his patients get a break from the weight of their own self-judgment. This is what he strives for with a first visit.

"That must be why your sentence was so light, plus the fact that most of them were very close to adulthood. There was video footage of the whole thing, wasn't there?"

"Yeah. The judge gave me community service and told me to see a therapist for anger management or some shit. Not like I haven't had counseling before."

"As a child, you mean?"

"And as an adult. Never seems to do any damn good."

Uryuu can read the loss of hope clearly in that statement. Kurosaki has likely been in and out of the offices of therapists, counselors, psychiatrists, analysts, and more over the years. Always hoping that this time they'll cure him. Or at least teach him a way to deal with the urges, the depression, and the rage he suffers each day. Uryuu never wants to see that hope die.

"I would like to accept you as a client, Kurosaki," he interrupts the man's thoughts to offer. "At least for the duration of your mandated term. Possibly longer."

"What makes you think I'd want to get my head shrunk by a guy my own age? How are you even a doctor?"

"I graduated high school two years early, earned a dual Bachelor of Science in Microbiology and Zoology with minors in Psychology and English within three years. Plus, I combined my psychiatric externship with my final year of medical school," Uryuu expertly recites. He has had his credentials questioned by more than a few of his clients, thanks to his age. "I have been practicing for three years now and making such a name for myself so far that the District Attorney occasionally sends me recommendations personally."

"Oh."

Kurosaki looks him over at that, reevaluating. He was ready to dismiss Uryuu for his youth in spite of his obvious skill, but he isn't going to hold that against the man. Wiser people have made the same mistake countless times throughout history.

"Still, I don't have the cash for this kind of place."

"It's pro bono."

"Seriously?"

"Mn," Uryuu succinctly confirms. And if it wasn't, he would happily make arrangements to keep Kurosaki on rotation. He _knows _he can help this person. There is a gentle, thoughtful man beneath the violent impulses and the poor decisions. Uryuu fully intends to dig him up and polish him like a retrieved relic. "The government will cover you for twelve weeks. After that, we can work something out if you would like to stay."

"I'll think about it."

"Please do. In the meantime, is there anything you would like to know about me? This is our introductory session, after all."

Kurosaki takes a breath and casually leans against the back of the couch. Uryuu thinks it is more a mere display of ease than a genuine preference. He is feeling uncomfortable now that he is reminded that Uryuu is a stranger, having just poured a considerable part of himself out to be evaluated. That is probably why Kurosaki reacts the way he does.

"You single?"

"Yes."

"Live alone?"

"Yes."

"Fancy apartment full of a whole lot of empty space and bland furniture like this white sofa?" Kurosaki flicks imaginary lint from the pristine cushion before turning his gaze on Uryuu. "Closet full of boring button-ups and pressed slacks?"

"…Yes."

"I bet you don't talk to your family anymore, huh?"

"How did you—"

"The only picture you've got in here is of an old geezer," he explains, pointing to the photo of his grandfather perched on one of his many bookshelves. "Going by the sepia tone and cracks in the velum, it was taken years ago so he must be dead already."

Uryuu feels a shard of irritation chink his armor. He frowns and lowers his gaze as he performs a quick breathing exercise. The fact that Kurosaki is intelligent occurred to him, of course, but that he could extrapolate such things at one glance…Uryuu didn't anticipate it to this extent. He will not be caught off-guard next time.

"How is your relationship with your family, Kurosa—"

"I mean do you even have a life? If you study in your spare time and work all day, what do you do with all the money you make? Or is everyone pro bono?"

"Actually, I make hundreds of dollars per hour and cases like yours are a very small percentage of my roster," he corrects before he can stop himself. Uryuu adjusts his glasses again and his attitude with them. "Now, I'm sure my personal life is of no significant interest to you. Would you prefer to discuss your work life?"

"I wanna talk about how you look like you haven't been laid in _months_."

Mouth frozen mid-word, Uryuu clamps down on the retort his tongue aches to spit at that. He knows an attempt at distraction when he hears it and none of his patients has ever inspired such a flagrant loss of professionalism in him before. This is unprecedented. This entire scenario is completely unprecedented and Uryuu doesn't know what to do with it. He is only twenty-six years old, after all. Most people would still consider him a 'young adult', prone to bouts of indiscretion. So he does something else he knows he shouldn't do. He tells Kurosaki the awkward truth.

"Actually, I had a one-night stand last weekend, though it had been a while prior to that." That shuts Kurosaki up faster than any polite redirection could have. Before Kurosaki can continue on his runaway train, Uryuu gets an idea to save it. "How about a deal, Kurosaki? Since you seem to be curious about me, let's trade questions. I'll ask you something and if you answer honestly you may ask me something in return. Sound fair?"

Kurosaki thinks that over for a moment. Bites his lip and squints his eyes. He knows this is a double-edged sword. Uryuu would not offer something that would be solely to Kurosaki's advantage. On the other hand, Uryuu can tell that Kurosaki really is curious and has a host of additional questions prepared for him.

"Deal."

"Excellent. I'll begin: how is your relationship with your family?"

"Well, I work with my pops, so I guess we get along okay," he reluctantly shares, shifting forward to lean his elbows on his knees. More closed body language. "I don't get to see my two kid sisters as much as I'd like because they're married."

"What about your mother?"

"It's my turn," snaps Kurosaki with a sharp glare. Uryuu silently marks that delicate subject for a later date. "What about you—why don't you like your family?"

"My sole remaining relative is my father, whom I have not spoken with since I left his household at the age of fourteen."

"Damn."

"You said your sisters are married…Do you approve of their husbands?"

"One husband, one wife. Karin is a lesbian." Kurosaki says it with a splash of pride. Like he recognizes his sister's strength of identity and relishes it. "They're pretty cool people, I guess. As long as they make each other happy I couldn't care less about the rest. Those girls have seen enough hardship in their lives already."

Uryuu gives him a moment of quiet to reminisce in that dark place. He brings Kurosaki back with a small shift in his own posture that refocuses the man's attention, reminds him where he is. His next question is an immature way of getting back at Uryuu for sending him there to begin with. Kurosaki wants to know whether he went to his place or hers for his 'weekend screw'.

"I have never brought anyone back to my apartment."

"No one good enough for the amazing Ishida-sensei, huh?"

"The last time I did, at a previous residence, I regretted it within a day," Uryuu goes ahead and answers this time. He predicts Kurosaki would ask this one again anyway. "An ex of mine decided to try and move in while I wasn't home."

"Which is probably _always_."

"I believe you owe me two questions now, Kurosaki." Humor ebbing, Kurosaki demonstrates his attention with a tilt of his head. Uryuu leans forward a bit and says, "When was the last time you had a serious relationship—romantic in nature?"

"Never."

That makes Uryuu falter for a second. He is sure Kurosaki is not admitting to virginity. But he is also fairly certain the man can't have gone more than a quarter of a decade without becoming close with anyone. Especially since he is an exquisite specimen of function embracing form. The zoologist in Uryuu can't help admiring the shape of this person. From the rich-red and white-blond highlights in his natural hair color, to the sharp angle of his strong jaw line, to the considerable curve of biceps clear through his cotton t-shirt. From what he has observed, Kurosaki also has a reasonably likeable personality. Even under the duress of analysis, he is playful, clever, and confident. Uryuu can't imagine he hasn't had dozens of offers since adolescence.

"Do you mean to imply you have never fallen in love with anyone?"

"Nope. Not once," he shakes his head in emphasis, feigning disinterest in the topic. "There was this one girl in college but…it just didn't work out."

"Why not?"

"Ishida-sensei," Ise calls through the door after a brisk knock.

With a low apology to Kurosaki, he gets up and steps out of his office, shutting the door behind him.

"What is it? We were just getting somewhere."

"You're almost twenty minutes over," she tells him, pointing at her wristwatch. "Didn't you notice the time?"

"Ah. No, I was…"

"Distracted?"

"Something like that," Uryuu sighs, pushing his hair behind an ear. "I'll wrap things up. Thank you, Ise-san."

"Sure. I'll just pack up the files for the day."

"Thank you."

"Ishida-sensei…?"

"Yes?"

"Are you all right?" she asks with a critical expression. "It's not like you to lose track of time and that man seems—"

"I'm fine. I really was just distracted. Feel free to go ahead before me if you'd like."

Ise watches him uncertainly for a moment until Uryuu smiles reassuringly. Then she huffs an inaudible sigh and dips her head in acknowledgment. Slipping back into the room, Uryuu is not surprised to see Kurosaki sitting at Uryuu's desk and flipping through the leaves of his own dossier. He doesn't look up when Uryuu comes up to stand across from him.

"You know, Ishida, this lists my 'past indiscretions' but they've left a few things out. Sloppy work."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I did break a liquor store window when I was fifteen, but I also stole two bottles of tequila," Kurosaki tells him matter-of-factly. "That's breaking and entering _in addition to_ theft. Plus, underage drinking after that, and giving alcohol to a minor since I shared it with my friends. Yep, definitely left out the good stuff."

Uryuu leans long arms on the desk and meets Kurosaki's smug gaze over the rim of his glasses. His hair shakes free from his ear and falls forward to brush his jaw as he says, "I'd love to hear all about it this Thursday. Now, please leave my office, Kurosaki."

The man's eyes widen and all mischief drains from his countenance. A rouge dusting of embarrassment tinges his cheeks and Kurosaki stands fast enough to jostle the rolling chair back a few feet.

"O-okay, yeah. Thursday works."

Puzzled, Uryuu watches the man book it out of his office. He shouts to him before he is too far, "Two-thirty!"

"What was that about?" Ise asks as soon as Kurosaki is gone. "What did you say to make him run off like that?"

"I'm not sure. But I think I've found my research subject."

* * *

><p>Parking his silver Saab in the only corner of the garage not inhabited by overfed pigeons, Uryuu takes the stairs to his flat two at a time in his rush. He spent too much time researching again and Neliel is not going to be happy with him. Sure enough, as soon as he walks through the door, she opens her mouth and tells him just how much she hates it when he's late.<p>

"I know, I know," he tells her, skirting her agitated form as he kicks off his shoes and sets down his briefcase. "I'm sorry, Nel! I'll feed you now so hold on a second."

Neliel's fluffy tail curls around his ankles at the word 'feed'. He stoops to pick up his cat and promptly refills her bowl in the kitchen as promised. Purring immediately, she digs in while Uryuu pours a glass of water for himself. He takes quenching draughts of it as he pets her. Nel is used to this by now but that doesn't make him feel better about leaving her alone for so long. If he thought he could pull it off, he would take her to the office with him every day.

Nearly spilling his cup as his phone unexpectedly rings, Uryuu fumbles it from his pocket and reads 'Inoue Orihime' on the screen.

"Hello?"

"_Uryuu-kun, answer your door_!"

The call abruptly ends. Uryuu stares at his phone for a tense moment.

"Wha—"

His doorbell rings and Uryuu retraces his steps back to the foyer with no small amount of trepidation. This is a scene straight from one of those thrillers he's always watching. Luckily, it is only Orihime when he answers the door. She is holding an enormous stack of boxes and he grabs them before they bury her with their toppling bulk.

"Whew! Thanks, Uryuu-kun. I thought I could make it up the stairs with them but I might've dropped a couple in the bushes."

"What are these?" he asks, setting them on his coffee table and picking up a pastel pink parcel. "And why are you here? Not that you aren't welcome, of course. I just wasn't expecting anyone."

"I texted you earlier, remember? About a crafts night."

Uryuu looks closer at his phone and notices about a dozen unread texts. When was the last time he checked his phone? Orihime makes herself comfortable on one of the couches and begins assembling boxes across the table and floor. Having finished her dinner, Nel joins them and finds a scrap of ribbon in the pile to bat and bite. He sits beside them as Orihime warmly greets the cat, taking advantage of an unguarded belly to rub.

Inside the boxes are a collection of colorful fabrics, stuffing, and sewing materials. It isn't unusual for them to have craft nights, but Uryuu might be too distracted to enjoy it as much as Orihime tonight. Not for the first time he wishes he could tell her about his clients. Uryuu thinks having another person to bounce ideas off could be very beneficial for several reasons. Yet, he knows that keeping his patients' confidence is always the priority.

"Oh," he says, glancing down at himself. "I should change. Be right back."

In his bedroom, Uryuu shuts the door and takes a moment to collapse against it. These kinds of random visits serve to remind Uryuu that he is a person, too. Just like all of the people he counsels every day. He has his own issues to deal with outside of work. Life's unpredictabilities do not spare him. Something he forgets more often than he should.

The constricting tie is the first to go. Popping the button-mimic fasteners open, Uryuu tosses the shirt into its color-coordinated hamper and does the same with his slacks. Then he pulls out a comfortable pair of black lounge pants and a soft blue v-neck. Kurosaki's comments on his attire come to mind. Yes, Uryuu dresses for his profession but when he has a choice, he wears the same type of casual style as Kurosaki. In fact, he is willing to bet that most of the judgments people make about him at work would not apply to him at home.

Orihime has transformed his living room into a festival by the time he returns. Ribbons of gold and opal and tangerine sprawl across his floor; the devastation wrought by an under-exercised cat. Patches of felt and tulle and corduroy line the cushions of his couch; eager machinations of an overtly creative woman. Uryuu takes one look at the fluff caught in her auburn hair and chuckles good-naturedly. He reaches out to pluck bits of it out as she grins up at him.

"Did you have a good day at work, Uryuu-kun?"

"More or less. What about you? Invent any new dishes at the restaurant?"

"Only one," she tells him as he moves to the other side of the sofa and perches carefully between balls of yarn. "I made Nutella pancakes with pepperoni and garlic for our breakfast special."

"How did that go over?" Uryuu refuses to wince at the idea until he tries it. Orihime is not constrained by conventional culinary practices and it usually works out for her.

"Two people tried it and one of them liked it so much they begged me for the recipe!"

"Amazing."

"I could make it for you if you're hungry!"

"Thank you, Orihime, but I'm not really—" his stomach chooses that moment to assert itself. Her grin widens as he flushes. "Well, that is…I really don't have much to work with in the kitchen right now."

"Hmm, let's see," she hums as she leaps from her Technicolor nest and progresses to flipping open cabinets in the next room. "You have rice, tofu, frozen fish…and wine."

"I haven't made it to the store in a while." Orihime frowns reproachfully and folds her arms under her breasts. He braces for the inevitable chastisement.

"Uryuu, what have I told you about taking care of yourself? Do I need to start shopping for you again? Do we need to be roommates so you don't accidentally starve?"

"I'll go this weekend."

"It's only Tuesday!"

"Well, I—"

"That's it! I'll just have to bring home leftovers from work until you can go shopping," she declares. Uryuu inwardly cringes. While Orihime's customers may love her unusual style, he has a much more traditional palate. One or two adventures are fine but he doesn't think he can handle a whole week of them. "So you better be home by seven sharp, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Appeased, Orihime's blithe demeanor returns as she begins putting his meager ingredients together to make a simple dinner. He helps her, chatting casually about inane things as they work. It doesn't take long before they are finished with dinner and cheerily creating colorful things from scratch.

Although Uryuu really only has one friend, he is confident that he couldn't find a better one than Orihime. She is so full of light and love that her very presence heals. If only he could harness the power of her personality into a type of ray gun that he could shoot his patients with. He knows he is lucky to have her in his life. Even luckier to have found her again in college after passing her over in high school. During those years Uryuu had spent most of his time reading and studying to the exclusion of almost everything else. Focused solely on admissions tests, he didn't have time for the trivialities of friendship or fun.

That seems to be a trend with him, actually. It's not that he hates people by any means, but it has never been easy for him to connect with others. Losing his grandfather the way he did made Uryuu grow up too fast. He almost lost all faith in humanity as a result. Fortunately, he managed to cling to his hope and saw a light at the end of a very long, very dark tunnel: escape from his father in the form of emancipation. Once he was out on his own for a while Uryuu was able to relax to an extent. To better understand himself and those around him. To make connections and draw conclusions that led him to this path.

Orihime draws him from these musings by producing her completed project for approval. Bright orange and fluffier than Nel, the stuffed creature resembles an amorphous dust bunny more than anything. But it sports a wide grin and big goofy eyes. Uryuu decrees it adorable and means it. He holds up his own patchwork pillow of muted blues and whites, receiving a hearty compliment for his endeavors.

"It's already eleven?" Orihime whines, reading the time on his phone. "I guess I should go home…"

"See you for dinner tomorrow? I can stop by your place instead."

"Okay! See you there, Uryuu-kun," she beams.

He helps her pack, tugging a bit of twine from Neliel's fatigued paws, and carries some of the boxes down to her car. Orihime gives him a warm hug and a quick kiss to his cheek before driving off in her pink coupe. As always, Uryuu is left with a bubbling sense of well-being after her visit. Still, there is a lingering sense of loneliness that no amount of time spent with that precious woman could ever alleviate. Jogging back upstairs, he scoops up Nel on the way to the living room. He flips the TV onto a pre-recorded show and snuggles until he passes out on his couch.


	2. His So-Called Life

Ichigo blinks awake and pushes himself off his pillow a few seconds before his alarm starts trilling. With a practiced poke, he silences the thing. He looks around his room—rather, his studio apartment—and makes mental notes on what needs to be done today. Laundry, recycling, and grocery shopping. Although all of those things are annoying, thinking of the latter task finally ceased making him scowl the day after he met Ishida.

It's been over two weeks since he started seeing that psychiatrist. Ichigo isn't sure yet but he believes this time the therapy might actually take. He is already having fewer blackouts and bouts of aggression towards neighborhood assholes since he's been spending an hour twice a week in Ishida's office. Something about the questions he asks and the fact that he never seems to judge Ichigo for the stupid mistakes he keeps making…whereas all the others had either been terrified of him or openly disdainful. As a result, he has ended up sharing more about himself with Ishida than with some of his closest friends.

In fact, Ichigo has begun to think of the man as a type of friend. What else would you call someone who helps you out, gives you good advice, and who you enjoy spending time with? Of course he realizes Ishida is just doing his job. And that he probably pities Ichigo for being such a momentous fuck-up of a human being even though he's steadily closing in on thirty years old. Ishida is the first person he has met who doesn't look at him with some form of fear or disgust. That by itself is enough to keep going back.

Shaking idle thoughts from his sleepy mind, he gets up and plods into the bathroom to take care of morning business. Thirty minutes later Ichigo is grabbing a sleeve of Pop-Tarts from his freezer and pulling on his jacket on the way out. He eats on the short walk to his father's clinic. As usual, a few strangers toss his scrubs odd looks. It used to bother him, people thinking it's weird to see a male nurse like Ichigo, but he's long since gotten over it. Besides, he can understand how a tall dude with loud hair and a perpetual scowl would look out-of-place in a hospital setting. Since he kind of looks out-of-place anywhere but at a rock show.

He shoves at the sliding door to the staff entrance and nods to his father as he enters. As usual, Kurosaki Isshin greets him with way too much energy for this early in the morning.

"Good morning, my lovely son!"

"'Mornin'."

"What's that, my boy?" the idiot shrieks, closing in despite attempts at evasion. "I can't hear you over the sound of my love for you!"

"_Jesus_, you crazy old geezer," Ichigo grumbles. He dodges an attempted headlock and elbows the man in his stupid ribs. "Why the hell are you so happy when we've got so many sick people waiting for you to treat them? Get to work already."

"Aww, don't say that, Ichigo. Daddy's got enough love for everyone—patients _and_ delinquent children."

Rolling his eyes, Ichigo drops his bag and jacket in his locker and slips his trusty stethoscope around his neck. Jabs a pen into his shirt pocket. Takes a swig of stale coffee. Grabs the roster for the day and peruses it as he takes the hall to the main wing. He stops in front of the first occupied room and gives a quiet knock. Inside sits a seventy-three year old woman halfway through fighting off a bad flu. Ichigo slips on a surgical mask to keep his germs to himself before walking into the room. Ichigo washes his hands the instant he enters, as always, and approaches the woman with a smile in his eyes.

"How are your symptoms today, Katagiri-san?" he asks kindly.

"Oh, Ichigo-kun," croons the silver-haired lady. "It's good to see you again this morning. I'm doing all right, I suppose."

She breaks into a mild coughing fit and Ichigo holds a fresh cup of water for her to sip. He takes her vitals and notes them in neat shorthand on his clipboard. Then he looks up and smiles at her gentle expression. This woman has been in and out of his father's clinic since Ichigo was a toddler, so they know each other fairly well. When she was admitted, he worried she wouldn't make it through the night. Now he's fairly sure she'll pull through. Her electrolytes are up, she's hydrating well, and her cough is improving each day.

"Are you sleeping well?"

"Yes, thank you. How about you, young man?" Katagiri-san asks with a no-nonsense stare. "Those bags under your eyes don't do your handsome face justice, you know."

"I've had better weeks," he wryly admits with a dismissive shrug. "But things are looking up."

"Your papa tells me you're seeing a new therapist."

"That big-mouth…"

"I was glad to hear it."

"Yeah," Ichigo sighs. He sits at the edge of her bed and sets his papers on his lap. "He's some fancy-ass psychiatrist specializing in mental disorders or some shit—sorry."

"I've heard worse, dear. Is he helping you?"

"I think so…for a guy my own age he's crazy-smart." Ichigo shakes his head, marveling at the genius that is Ishida Uryuu. "I mean he comes across like a super stuck-up automaton, you know? But once you get to know him he kinda defrosts a little. Then you start to see he's actually sort of cool. In a nerdy, way too fucking serious sense. Sorry."

Katagiri-san smiles in forgiveness for his foul language. She pats his hand reassuringly. "Well, that's nice. He sounds like a good man."

"Yeah."

"Maybe he can get you to realize how sweet and intelligent you really are for once."

Embarrassed at her praise, Ichigo quickly mutters an excuse and leaves to check on his other patients. Fortunately, it is still early enough that most of them remain sleeping. He checks the stats on their monitors, adjusts their fluid levels, and moves on until he completes his rounds. Ichigo has done this so many times that at a certain point he more or less flies on autopilot. By the time he stops in at the break room for lunch, his brain is clouded with unrelated thoughts. Often, he begins to feel a sense of detachment as a result, like he's not really here. Like he's watching someone else tend the infirm with polite stoicism day after day.

When he told Ishida about this, he had a suggestion for Ichigo to try. Now he finally tests it out. Sitting at the table, he sets an apple in front of him and stares at it. He thinks about its color, shape, and texture. About how the apple will feel in his hands. The scent of its pulp beneath the skin. How it will taste when he bites into it. Ichigo imagines it in vivid detail so that when he touches it, the apple is precisely what he envisioned down to the smallest facet. As his shrink had explained it, this is a method of repairing something called 'cognitive dissonance', which may be contributing to his feelings of detachment. Ichigo doesn't get the particulars, but he trusts Ishida enough to take his word for it.

After a few minutes of this, Ichigo grabs the apple and takes a bite. Something shifts in his mind and suddenly he is snapping back to this moment with the clarity of an ended daydream. He chews the apple slowly in astonishment. Not only does Ichigo not feel like a zombie anymore, he is almost _too _alert. Hyperaware down to the way his scrub top drags against the hairs at the back of his neck. Tag chafing and shoes constricting. Ichigo takes a breath and feels it fill his lungs. Tastes the sweet-sour fruit juice on his tongue and listens to the complaining crunch of it between his teeth.

The strange affects wear off after a while, but his connection to the present—to himself—stays firm.

* * *

><p>Ishida's office has a particular smell that has become almost nostalgic. The reception area is an amalgamation of many things: old books, recently-vacuumed carpet, the potpourri pot on Nanao's desk, a generic people-scent. Inside, where Ishida spends so many hours of each day, it smells of clean leather, a eucalyptus and spearmint candle, more books, and Ishida himself. Ichigo doesn't have words for that particular scent, but it is distinct nonetheless.<p>

He greets Nanao with a nod as he takes his seat. Listening to her page Ishida, he ignores the usual balloon of anticipation that swells in his chest. Thinking of it as the desire for change that he believes Ishida can help him achieve only fools him part of the time. If he's being honest with himself, Ichigo knows it is the particular happiness normal people experience when visiting good friends.

"Ishida-sensei is ready for you, Kurosaki-kun."

"Thanks, Nanao," he says as he passes her desk. Then he pauses to remind her, "And you can call me 'Ichigo'."

She gives him a polite smile, laced with discomfort. Ichigo doesn't hold it against her since he suspects she's just like that. Ishida still calls her 'Ise-san', after all. With a mental shrug, he pushes into the office and takes his usual seat closest to the doctor's armchair. Ishida is seated at his desk with his head in a stack of papers but he ditches them as soon as Ichigo walks in.

"Hello, Kurosaki."

"Yo."

"You're looking in good spirits."

"I tried that trick you mentioned last time," he explains as Ishida comes to sit, clasping his hands and giving Ichigo his full attention. "About focusing on something before I touch it? It worked. Like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head!"

"Excellent." Ishida gives him that little smile that makes Ichigo feel like a petted puppy. "I'm glad it helped."

"Got any more suggestions like that?"

"Nothing specific that comes to mind, no. I could do additional research—"

"It's no big deal."

Ichigo shrugs and waits for the subject change. This is his fifth session with Ishida but he already feels comfortable enough with the man to welcome whatever he chooses to bring up. Somehow, his shrink seems to have a damn good idea of just how far he can push Ichigo before he will shut down. He tests the limits a little more each time, but Ichigo doesn't get annoyed: pushing at just the right pace is how Ishida is going to fix him.

He uses the pause to indulge in something that has become one of his favorite pastimes. It may seem dumb, but Ichigo has taken to memorizing and deciphering the minutiae that are Ishida's emotional spectrum. Initially, he assumed this guy was just one of those people who doesn't feel anything, like a sociopath or something. But gradually he realized the 'tells' are there if he looks hard enough. Right now Ishida is working through a complex thought; he's not sure if what he's going to ask will be taken well but he's working up the determination to ask anyway. Ichigo watches the small scrunch of an arcing eyebrow, the tiny tug of his curving mouth, and the diminutive dip of his pointing chin. Ishida's inky asymmetrical fringe brushes his cheek as he tilts his head a fraction.

"I would like to discuss your relationships today, Kurosaki."

"What else do you wanna know? I already told you all about my silly family and my crazy friends."

"Not those kinds of relationships."

Ichigo's eyes narrow as he catches on. Thus far, he has resolutely refused to talk about his exes. Mostly because he doesn't like _thinking_ about them, much less rehashing old history with someone who has never met them. This is the third time in three weeks that Ishida has brought it up and Ichigo realizes that he isn't going to be able to pass on this one. Maybe if he talked fast enough it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe if he got it all out at once Ishida would drop it once and for all. With that thought, Ichigo sets his jaw and gives a tight nod.

"Okay. I'll tell you this time and then I don't want to talk about it again."

"Fair enough."

The way he says it has Ichigo thinking it's far from a promise but he's already made up his mind. Feeling the familiar zing of anxiety begin to vibrate under his skin, Ichigo takes a breath and reaches for the memories.

"My first girlfriend was this red-headed chick in high school who followed me around a lot. Actually, I didn't really want to date anybody but my friend Tatsuki, who was like this girl's big sister, convinced me to do it."

"You were close with Tatsuki, right?" Ishida interrupts, recalling a previous comment about her. "It never occurred to you to date her instead?"

"Nah, Me and Tatsuki…there was too much history, you know? I've known her since we were five."

"Ah, I see."

"Yeah. So I dated her friend but she was almost _too_ nice. You know those types of girls who you can't picture surviving a really horrible death in the family or something? Although Tatsuki told me her brother died when she was a kid."

"I know someone similar. The world doesn't seem to have had much of an impact, like true cruelty is more of an idea than a reality."

"Exactly," Ichigo nods, appreciating Ishida's ability to comprehend, as usual. "So it's hard to relate to that kind of innocence. Especially when you're a rowdy thug like me."

"Kurosaki, you don't give yourself enough credit."

Ichigo ignores this. He's pretty sure Ishida has to say pandering shit like that from time to time. Encouragements so Ichigo won't think Ishida agrees with deprecating comments.

"Anyways, she and I didn't work out. I broke it off with her and a few months later this guy named Kon cornered me in the stairwell and kissed me." Taking pleasure—as always—in the rare chances he gets to shock Ishida, he hides a grin as the man's slanted eyes widen a fraction at the admission. He recovers quickly and Ichigo continues. "I didn't hate it so I let him. But then we got caught by a teacher and had to scram."

"Did this boy ask you out?"

"Yeah but he was an annoying prick and I turned him down. We still met up to make out every once in a while, though." Ishida shifts a bit in his seat. Ichigo grins. "Bet you didn't guess I was bi."

"No, I can't say that I anticipated that." He likes the way Ishida's blue eyes sweep over him in curiosity. Ichigo doesn't mention that he's the first shrink he's shared that with. "What about in college; were there people you were with for longer than a few months?"

"There was this one woman…"

"Tell me about her?"

The fact that the request is phrased as a question assuages some of the mounting stress this memory creates. Ichigo has carefully tucked thoughts of her away from his brain for good reason. Dredging them up will not be pleasant.

"Rukia. She was loud and rude and bitchy. But I liked that about her. We argued a lot and her family hated me." His throat seizes up as images of Byakuya pop into his consciousness. Blood and curses. Rukia screaming. Black, acidic fluid wells within him and he hears the beginnings of a sinister whisper. "Rukia said she loved me and I couldn't handle it. I broke up with her."

"Because you were afraid of commitment?"

"No," he chokes out, inwardly swimming in the sorrow of that time. "Because I was afraid I'd hurt her."

Dimly, he hears Ishida's calm reassurances filtering poorly through the haze. The sounds of his own frantic breathing echo in his ears and Ichigo looks down at his open palms. He clenches them closed as tightly as he can but he doesn't feel the strain, nor the bite of nails carving crescents among sweeping lines. Black curls like thick smoke along his peripheral vision until he can barely discern the alarmed shape of Ishida across from him. He hears the telltale howl and slips under.

* * *

><p>Shirosaki's mouth curls into a wide grin. A high, tremulous laugh vibrates from his throat. A pretty young man is staring at him and Shirosaki identifies him as Ichigo's White Knight. He recalls the conversation perfectly. Letting his open hands fall lax to the pine-scented sofa, he cants his hips and sits sideways to prop a leg and an arm casually across it. He twists his neck with a loose arch and eyes Ishida at an angle.<p>

"Kurosaki…?"

"Ya wanna hear about my conquests? The bitches I've banged and the cocks I've sucked?" Shirosaki savors the man's discomfited propriety like fine wine. Ishida tries to hide it but his posture is too stiff, his mouth a pursed line. "I'll tell ya all about it, Baby."

"Actually, I'm more interested in hearing about the duration and scope of your relationships."

"So there was this Grade-A honey, _Orihime-chan_," he briefly shuts his eyes in recollection. "_Huge_ tits and the cutest little mouth. But the prude wouldn't put out. Rukia, on the other hand…girl knew what to do with a hard-on, lemme tell ya."

"As I said, Kurosaki—"

"But her _brother_! Now there's a fuckin' prick if I ever met one! Though he regretted it in the end."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, _Ishida-sensei_," Shirosaki croons in mock-respect. He loves watching Ishida squirm like this. Ichigo may miss it but he can see plain as day how his own doc has the hots for him. Based on the way he keeps subconsciously fidgeting with his errant hair, Shirosaki suspects Ishida himself doesn't even realize it yet. "I dumped that clingy broad and her bro came at me like a half-cocked cougar so I beat his ass into next Monday. By the time I was done with 'im, his stupid pretty face looked like _hamburger_. Actually, ya kind of look like 'im, kid. Before I rearranged his face."

"He attacked you first?"

"What difference does that make?" With an irritated huff, Shirosaki flings his arms out in a wide shrug and drops his head to the back of the couch in boredom. "Yeah, he took the first swing but I took the next one. And the next, and the next…"

"You lost control."

"Fuck no!" he snaps, offended. "When I fight, I go at it for real. None of that pussy bullshit like, 'Oh, I should aim for his cheek so he goes down quick.' Nah, I'm like, 'how much will it hurt if I hit his kidney _just right_?'"

"I see."

Ishida's breath quickens and a fine sweat breaks out across his pale skin. Shirosaki can sense the tension building at his words. He can't tell if it's fear or excitement, though, so he pushes a little further.

"After Rukia, I started fuckin' this athlete called Ikkaku. He was a demon in the sack—always comin' by my place and pushin' me around like he wanted it so bad he couldn't even say it out loud." Now he leans forward with forearms on his knees and peers straight into Ishida's darkening eyes. "No surprise, seein' as I'm a fantastic lay. I could do things to ya, Doc…Things yer body would remember and _crave_ for years after."

"I'm sure."

It is said with the veneer of sarcasm but breathlessness belies his true mood. Shirosaki's grin widens as his eyes crinkle and gleam. He has Ishida just where he wants him. A few more suggestive comments like that and he'll have Ishida aching for a quick screw over his desk. Hot and dirty like this cool cat never allows. Maybe then Ichigo could get over this idiotic fixation and move on.

"But then I met his friend—Yumichika. Flaming gay; ya could tell from miles away. This dude was pretty enough to be a tranny, all purple hair and feathers and floral kimono. A real Queen! I fucked 'im up against the wall until he whimpered my name."

Now Shirosaki sees the way Ishida's gaze darts to the side in thought, imagining the whole thing as he tells him about it. He's picturing Ichigo's naked body pinning some pretty boy and pumping him like an animal. Which is exactly what happened, only it had been Shirosaki instead of Ichigo that time. He's always had a thing for dominating weaker men.

Clearing his throat, Ishida asks, "You cheated on Ikkaku?"

"He caught us, too. Yumichika collapsed on the floor with my come staining his silk kimono and Ikkaku screamed and screamed until I socked 'im in the jaw."

"Do all of your relationships end in violence, Kurosaki?" he asks with more curiosity than criticism. "Have you ever even been dumped?"

"Well, I had a quickie with this prof once. Soi Fon…somethin' or other. She taught me some new tricks but then ran off every time she saw me after that."

"I don't think that counts, then."

"Why not?"

"She was probably running from the possibility of being caught having relations with a student," Ishida states matter-of-factly, tapping his chin in thought. "Those kinds of incidents are easily grounds for dismissal."

"You would know, wouldn't ya?"

"Hm?"

"I've seen that look before, Ishida," he murmurs as he slides a little closer. The man perks up as if sensing danger. He's not wrong. "The way yer eyes follow my hands, skate over my body. That color on yer cheeks as I talk about sex looks really good on ya. Makes me wanna shove my tongue in yer pink mouth and lick inside until ya beg me to fuck y—"

Shirosaki breaks off as a cold shiver runs down his spine. He suddenly stands, looking down at himself like one of those poor saps in _Alien _before they birth a slimy beast from their guts. Ishida is gaping up at him in rapt fixation, though he couldn't possibly know what is going on within. He takes a quick breath and wonders if it's safe. Then Ichigo's rage slams into him like an avalanche, abruptly washing him from the spotlight.

* * *

><p>This story is more or less finished, total length around 50k words. I will be posting chapters every couple of days or so to give myself time to proofread. Feel free to point out typos if you see any. Reviews are very much appreciated!<p> 


	3. What the Hell?

Hours after his session with Kurosaki, Uryuu is still reeling.

He had seen a 'switch' right before his eyes. Reading about these events is one thing but actually seeing them happen is another. Kurosaki's 'alter' was all of the things that he normally tried to keep tucked away from polite society. Crude, impulsive, angry, erotic. His mannerisms had changed so drastically. Speech pattern, diction, vocal cadence. The way Kurosaki had held himself and moved his limbs was even affected. Uryuu had been so intrigued, so _excited_ that he had canceled two other appointments to take the time for adjustment and furiously jot down notes.

The fact that reversion occurred only as Kurosaki began propositioning Uryuu in earnest says something about his state of mind. In addition to the proposition itself, of course. Uryuu can't be sure whether it was an unfounded whim or if the impulse may have been based on existing feelings of attraction. Not that there is anything to be done about it if it turns out to be the latter. And the way Kurosaki had shuddered back to his primary personality and apologized before running out spoke volumes, too. Even though Uryuu could see Kurosaki was confused—he probably didn't remember the conversation but he was immensely upset by it. He hadn't responded when Uryuu had tried to stop him.

Although he had suspected, Uryuu wasn't sure that the symptoms indicated Dissociative Identity Disorder until today. Black-outs, mood swings, depression, time loss, and odd compulsions have been plaguing Kurosaki for years. Haven't any other doctors been able to put the pieces together before? Kurosaki had mentioned that he rarely stayed with someone longer than a few sessions, however, so it's possible he's gone undiagnosed this long. The problem is that Uryuu hasn't had much training for things like multiple personalities because it's such a rare condition. A colleague of his specializes in it, though. An old mentor from when Uryuu was in medical school, Ukitake Juushiro, will have excellent advice on how to proceed. He resolves to contact the man immediately.

In the meantime, Uryuu cringes at his phone. A text from Grimmjaw—third one this week—makes another demand for a meeting. They had gone out for almost a year before Uryuu decided crass and selfish isn't what he wanted in a partner. He had broken it off with the full force of his psychiatric repertoire in the hopes of preventing negative feelings. To no avail. Grimmjaw had been furious. As a result, he still contacts Uryuu every few weeks. He thinks it's ninety percent due to the fact that Grimmjaw was dumped, rather than that he still wants Uryuu. Which is why he ignores the messages.

"I'm heading out for the day," Ise softly announces from the door, beyond used to Uryuu's habitual overworking.

"Ah, just a moment!"

"What is it?" she sighs.

"Could you make one last phone call for me before you go? I need to arrange a meeting with Ukitake-sensei for tomorrow morning."

"Ukitake-sensei…isn't he the DID specialist?"

"Yes."

"Hm. Okay, I'll make the appointment."

"Thank you, Ise-san," Uryuu calls to her retreating form.

He would place the call himself if he had any idea how she organizes his contacts list. As it is, he can barely find the right patient files when she isn't here. Ise went on vacation once and Uryuu's practice nearly imploded. Still, he doesn't feel too guilty; he pays her too well to bother about small things and they both know it.

Truthfully, Uryuu is not a greedy man. What he earns is much more than he needs so most of it goes towards things like financial aid for his clients, local charities, and bonuses for Ise when he's been particularly insufferable. Orihime would be on the list if he had his way, but the woman's pride won't allow it. Instead, he donates to a children's charity in her name from time to time. He keeps just enough to put a little in savings and pay his monthly bills.

This generosity is mostly due to his own compassion, but it is also motivated by an inveterate aspiration to share as few qualities with his father as possible. Ishida Ryuuken is one of the richest members of any hospital in the country. What does he do with it? Absolutely nothing. It accumulates in his ever-burgeoning bank accounts like a self-granted lifetime achievement award. Meanwhile, many of his employees receive minimum wage, resenting the stoic chief of staff who occasionally 'forgets' to dispense holiday bonuses.

Uryuu thinks of his deceased mother, first time in a long time, and sends a silent prayer that her eyes are watching him now instead of her unconscionable husband.

* * *

><p>"Ishida-kun, so good to see you, as usual."<p>

"Hey there, Uryuu."

Ukitake Juushiro and Kyouraku Shunsui are comfortably seated at a wide coffee table taking tea when Uryuu walks in. He greets them with a shallow bow before taking the proffered seat across from them. Although Ukitake—as a specialist in Dissociative Identity Disorder—is his primary interest, Kyouraku's concentration in anger management research could be very helpful with Kurosaki's case as well. Luckily, the two are rarely found apart for some reason so he can pick both of their brains at once.

Ukitake's office is furnished in a very traditional Japanese style. Low furniture, shoji screens, wood accents, natural lighting, and tatami mats. The simplicity of the large room should make it feel barren or empty but it manages a spacious, airy aura instead. Green tea and sakura mochi scent the air and Uryuu is nostalgic for days spent with his grandfather as a child.

"Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Ukitake-sensei."

"Of course," the pale-haired man says with affability and perfect candor. "Please have some tea."

"Why the rush?"

"I wish to confirm a theory about a patient," he tells Kyouraku as he sips the offered tea. "Treating him has been challenging so far and a misdiagnosis could prove detrimental at this juncture."

"You suspect DID?"

"I do."

"Tell us about it, yeah?"

"Patient presented with symptoms such as depression, memory loss, unexplainable compulsions, bouts of anger and aggression," Uryuu lists, sliding easily into doctor-mode. "Recently, he has admitted frequent feelings of confusion and social disconnection."

"That is pretty vague, considering," ponders Ukitake. He pinches his chin between thumb and forefinger as he considers. "Those could certainly indicate a dissociative condition, but…"

"That could be a dozen different disorders, Uryuu. Got anything more specific?"

"In fact, I do." They turn expectant looks on him and Uryuu fights the urge to smile. Briefly, he describes the events of his last session with Kurosaki. Though he leaves out most of the man's colorful conversational topics. "The switch took a handful of seconds and then I was speaking with a completely different person."

"Too bad you don't record your talks," Kyouraku mourns, clearly impressed. "This kid sounds like a textbook-case multiple personality disorder."

"Speaking of recording, my client was involved in an altercation which was caught on film. It's taking a while to get a copy of the footage, but I suspect it will confirm my prognosis." Ukitake nods encouragingly when Uryuu hesitates. "Only, since I have so little experience with this brand of illness, I was hoping you might have some guidance regarding authentication."

"You mean proving or disproving the presence of genuine alters?" Shaking his head, Ukitake gazes at him with apologetic eyes. "Unfortunately, it's still a hot topic in the professional world. Debates about whether the condition exists or if it's just an offshoot of Borderline Personality Disorder never conclude. What it really comes down to is trusting the individual's word when they describe their symptoms and experiences."

"Does this guy seem trustworthy to you?" Kyouraku asks.

"Yes," he tells them without hesitation.

"One of the most recurrent causes said to influence dissociative tendencies—and the creation of protective personalities—is a traumatic event, typically during childhood. Has your patient ever mentioned anything of the sort to you, Ishida-kun?"

"No, but I believe that event may have occurred with his mother. He has never spoken of her, and the one time I did his eyes sharpened with a vicious warning."

Ukitake shrugs. "Well, of course there are a few techniques to testing and treating, if that's a path you'd like to pursue."

So Ukitake tells him about word-association games and safely triggering a switch. Quizzing and comparing. Using hypnosis to make contact with alters at will. He describes the processes to Uryuu in detail so he can replicate them later. Kyouraku obligingly adds a smattering of breathing exercises, counting, and recitation as ways to fend off spontaneous rage. The discussion doesn't end until the remaining tea is cold and all the mochi is consumed. By the time Uryuu thanks them both and leaves Ukitake's office, he is buoyed by an uncharacteristic optimism. With this knowledge he may be one step closer to getting Kurosaki back in control of his own life.

* * *

><p>"Ishida?"<p>

Disrupted from his internal debate over Greek yogurt or regular, Uryuu looks up to see Kurosaki approaching from the soda aisle. Silly as it sounds, he never really imagined he would run into any of his patients outside of work in a city this large. Much less on one of his rare grocery shopping expeditions. The fact that it's Kurosaki and not one of his other, less affable clients is something to be thankful for, though. Uryuu sets down the two tubs and faces the man with a polite nod.

"Hello, Kurosaki."

"Every time you say that it makes me think of walking into your office," he laughs, propping his half-full hand basket on a hip. "Shop here often?"

"Actually, no," Uryuu can't quite smother a smirk at Kurosaki's teasing one-liner, "The one closest to my flat is closed for a family emergency."

"Hope everyone's all right."

Most people say things like that to be polite or even facetious but Uryuu can tell he means it. It's the twist of Kurosaki's frown and the dip of his eyebrows. The shift of his eyes as his thoughts turn to imaginary strangers potentially suffering at the hands of fate. Despite himself, Uryuu warms at the display.

"I'm sure it's nothing serious."

"Yeah..." Kurosaki's expression clears as he thinks of something else. "Hey, did you hear about the hurricane brewing in the Philippines?"

With the ease of a long-standing friendship, they walk through the store together, shopping and chatting. It doesn't occur to Uryuu to question it until after they have checked out and left the building. Kurosaki is telling him about a new coffee shop one of his friends opened down the street. Then he asks if Uryuu bought any refridgerables. He shakes his head, half-listening as his lawyer's grouchy voice starts haranguing him in his mind. Uryuu knows this is one of those 'minor offences' that tend to get psychiatrists into trouble later on but...it just doesn't seem that grave. Running into a patient and taking some time to talk can't possibly be breaking any rules, right?

Uryuu's musing is halted by Kurosaki suddenly taking his wrist and leading them down the road.

"Kurosaki?" he tries, startled. "Where are we going?"

"It's not like you to space out like that," Kurosaki replies, glancing back with a curious tilt of one eyebrow. "I just told you we're going to see my friend's new cafe. I've mentioned you to him so he'll want to meet you. Plus, he could use the extra business."

"But I-"

"It won't take long."

After a moment's deliberation, Uryuu relents. He moves to walk in step beside Kurosaki; the man releases his wrist with a welcoming grin. They don't speak on the short walk over until they come within sight of the shop. Kurosaki shoots him a weird look as they cross the street.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's just...this friend has kinda been hitting on me lately. I'm not interested and I've told him that," he's quick to add with an earnest glance. "I think his libido is in overdrive lately. So I was hoping this won't be awkward for you."

"Why would it be?"

The words are spoken calmly but Uryuu is on edge. He can't reason why the situation should be unpleasant for him unless Kurosaki suspects more than casual feelings from him. They step into the quaint shop and Kurosaki doesn't answer, too busy greeting the owner. Possibly the most exotic-looking person Uryuu has ever seen, the man has long scarlet hair tied up in a frantic splay sticking up at all angles. Bold black tattoos array symmetrically over a large portion of visible skin. Furthermore, his fashion sense is something out of an American 70's apparel magazine. Uryuu thinks he has seen those pants in an episode of 'Gilligan's Island'.

"Ishida, this is Abarai Renji. Renji, this is my psychiatrist Ishida Uryuu."

"Nice to meet you," Uryuu says with a shallow bow.

"Likewise," the man nods, looking him over. "Ichigo, you didn't tell me what a fox your doctor is!"

Kurosaki laughs weakly while Uryuu blinks dumbly at the overt appraisal. Abarai's eyes trace leisurely over his body. Sensing his discomfort, Kurosaki redirects his friend's attention by ordering a latte. Uryuu flashes a grateful smile before requesting one for himself.

Abarai obligingly rings them up and sets to brewing their drinks behind the tidy bar. Glancing around the interior, Uryuu quickly decides the place is cozy, classy, and has the potential to become a hotspot for the trendy youth of the neighborhood. The seating is diner-style booths in earthy colors of russet, forest, and goldenrod. Leaf-patterned shades line the wide windows to provide a more private feel with the lighting.

Bags on the bench beside them, the trio sits down to sip their coffee and schmooze. Uryuu keeps quiet and observes for a while.

"Haven't seen ya in a while, man. Whatcha been up to?"

"This and that. Talking with this guy twice a week for a while now. He's been a lot of help."

"I bet."

Uryuu doesn't miss the way Kurosaki shifts in his seat at that.

"How's business?"

"Good as can be expected for my first year," Abarai wryly admits, glancing around the empty space. "But it'll pick up if I can get a couple of regulars like you two in here!"

Curious, Uryuu breaks his silence, "Why is that?"

"Good for the ambience."

"He means because you're hot," Kurosaki explains at Uryuu's confusion.

"You too, Ichigo," Abarai leers. "I want my place to be the first gay cafe in this city."

"Or anywhere."

Rolling his eyes at Kurosaki, he returns his attention to Uryuu. "So I want to see you around, got it?"

"Y-yes."

"Quit ordering him around, Renji. This guy's such a softie he'll actually do it."

"I beg your pardon, Kurosaki—

"Oh, don't like me bossin' your shrink, eh?" Abarai chuckles as Kurosaki frowns at him. "Unless it's you makin' the demands."

"Shut up, Renji."

"Hey, I don't blame ya—"

"I said shut it."

It's Uryuu's turn to frown as Abarai laughs and shrugs.

"There seems to be a misunderstanding here," Uryuu carefully states to Abarai. "About Kurosaki and I—"

"Nah, I'm just givin' Ichigo a hard time. He told me doctors can't date their patients. Me, on the other hand," he grins, shark-like. "I'd love to hook up some time, if you're into acoustic sets and horror movies."

"Ishida isn't falling for your lame-ass pick-ups, Renji. And don't go assuming people are gay."

"I can speak for myself, Kurosaki, thank you."

"Fine."

Scowling just enough to ebb Abarai's humor, Kurosaki chugs half his latte and sets it down too hard. Uryuu glances between the two men and wonders if he's the one misinterpreting things here. He doesn't appreciate the way Kurosaki seems to want to play big brother to Uryuu around his acquaintance. It's a role-reversal he wasn't prepared for.

"I'm flattered, Abarai-san, but I—"

"Call me Renji."

"Ishida doesn't like using given na—never mind."

"Kurosaki is right: I would prefer to stick with your family name, if that is acceptable."

"Suit yourself."

"Unfortunately, I am not currently seeking a relationship."

"I'm not asking for your hand in marriage," Abarai clarifies with raised eyebrow. Or raised tattoo, rather.

"I'm not interested in a one-night stand, either."

"You sure?" Kurosaki pipes up with a flippant expression. "It's been a while since your last one. Though I guess that could've been a chick. I don't think you ever said."

"Whoa—what? Ichigo, why do you know about it?"

Uryuu glares at Kurosaki across the black lacquered table. He doesn't understand this sudden immaturity and he definitely doesn't feel like dealing with this right now. It's bad enough Orihime convinced him to go shopping this weekend when he could be using this precious time editing his latest research paper. Even if they were having a pleasant discussion earlier, his attitude now is far from agreeable. Kurosaki just had to come along and distract him, confuse him, and then pester him with his misplaced jealousy.

"Nothing," Uryuu mutters darkly. "Ignore him."

"Riiiight. I'm gonna go do coffee shop stuff and leave you two alone for a minute."

His eyes stay locked on Kurosaki as Renji slides out of the booth and walks off to tend the bar across the room. Uryuu waits until the man is out of earshot before speaking in a low tone.

"Kurosaki, I don't know what your issue is with me right now but I would be very grateful if you could manage not to act like a child."

"My issue, Ishida, is that you're about to be eaten by that wolf," Kurosaki snarls right back, leaning elbows on the table to bring himself closer to Uryuu, an aggressive gesture. "I warned you before we came in, didn't I?"

"I'm a grown man and I can handle myself. Maybe I'd like to 'be eaten', as you say."

At that, Kurosaki withdraws, blushing outright. Uryuu is reminded of the day they met and how the man had reddened like a tomato when Uryuu had laid down the law in his office. He's starting to think Kurosaki has a thing for chastisement. Watching the man closely, he sighs when Kurosaki's pout turns petulant.

"You don't know anything about him."

"That's why it's called a 'one-night stand'."

"Fine," Kurosaki spits as he slams a fist onto the table. "Do whatever you want."

"Thanks for your permission."

"You're welcome."

"I should go."

"See you."

Taking an extra minute to stare him down, Uryuu resolves to leave it alone for now. They can talk about it next week after they've both cooled off. Without another word, he grabs his drink and rises. Abarai watches him go without a word. He gets a block and a half away before he remembers his groceries.

"I was just messin' around, Ichigo," he hears Abarai yell from the bar as he returns. "I'm not about to try 'n hit that."

"Don't act like he's not your type," Kurosaki shouts from the other side of the shop. "You know you like the pretty, nerdy ones. Your ex was an androgynous game designer!"

Uryuu knows he shouldn't listen but he can't help himself. Overhearing the explanation will be so much easier than squeezing it out of Kurosaki in his office. Ducking to the right of the door in the cover of a wall, he indulges his curiosity at the risk of his dignity.

"My ex turned out to be _hikikomori_! Your doctor has better social skills than both of us put together."

"Ishida is too nice for you. He actually gives a shit about his patients, unlike every other psychiatrist out there. So don't fuck this up for me!"

"Look, you're not hearing me, Ichigo!"

"That's because all you ever do is bullshit everyone."

"I'm not saying I wouldn't happily screw him into an early grave, given the chance," the man admits, sparking a mild rush to Uryuu's head. "But I know he's not up for grabs, so-"

"It's not like that," Kurosaki huffs, losing steam. "He's my _doctor_."

"It's only breaking a rule if you get caught, right?"

He has heard enough. Pushing open the door, Uryuu ignores their startled glances and pretends nothing is amiss. People believe what they want to, especially when you give every indication you just happened to walk in without having heard anything embarrassing.

"I forgot my bag." Kurosaki wordlessly hands it to him. They both continue to stare as he walks over to take it, turns to leave, and hesitates at the door. "I'll see you on Tuesday, Kurosaki. It was nice to meet you, Abarai-kun."

"Yeah."

"Right," Kurosaki mumbles.

On the walk home, Uryuu fails to shut inappropriate thoughts out. Hearing Kurosaki and Abarai talk about him not just as a doctor but as a young man was something he is entirely unprepared for. Objectively, it makes sense that Kurosaki is attracted to him on some level, if only because of what he has done to help the man over these past months. Subjectively, Uryuu doesn't want it to be true because if it is there could be unpleasant ramifications for both of them. He would rather assume Kurosaki's irritation stems from another source, such as embarrassment. Besides, Uryuu can't help picturing Kurosaki going for someone more open and amusing. Or less like Uryuu in most ways.

Still, the idea is there. Dark arguments rise to battle the fairy tale as he turns the final corner to his street. Scenarios like Kurosaki and Ise hooking up after a round of drinks one night. Abarai convincing him to indulge their libidos. Orihime reconnecting with her old flame after all this time.

Uryuu is not so dense that he doesn't realize what he is like. There are good reasons why he has been single the majority of his life that have nothing to do with his preferences. Workaholic, neat-freak, nerd, and over-analytical. These terms describe his prominent personality traits very well. Plus, he is thin and pale and dresses like an old professor more often than not.

By comparison, Kurosaki is fit and flush with vitality. His clothes are the kind of carelessly trendy you find in the nicer club scenes. Quick to defend others, honest and forthright. Kurosaki is the type of easygoing person who people are universally drawn to despite his shortcomings. From a logical perspective, there's no way he would go for someone like Uryuu. It's not even worth pondering. Even if it wasn't completely incomprehensible to begin with.

None of that stops him from daydreaming about it.


	4. There is No Better Reason

At the end of a session, he and Ishida exchange a quick farewell before Ichigo heads out. Ishida goes to his desk to read through some things as usual. Leaving the office, Ichigo steps into the reception area and stops cold. Both of his sisters are standing at the desk pestering Nanao.

"We can't?" Karin asks with an annoyed hand on her hip. "Are you sure?"

"Just for a little?" Yuzu adds.

"I'm sorry, but Ishida-sensei is—"

"What are you two doing in here?" Ichigo sighs, muttering a terse apology to Nanao. "I told you guys to wait outside! Why are you bothering Nanao and throwing a fit?"

"But we just wanted to see where you spend so much time these days," whines Yuzu.

"It's two hours a week, not twenty—"

"And we wanted to meet the doctor who is supposedly helping you," Karin interrupts. "Since you're ditching your family to make sure you're here on time."

"I'm not ditching you guys," Ichigo groans, rubbing a weary hand over his face. "Who asked you to schedule the picnic during the one time I was busy?"

"It's the same time every year!"

"Well, what did you want me to do, huh? I have to come here or they'll put me in jail!"

"Ichi-nii…"

"Actually, your mandatory sessions ended last week," Ishida startles him as he steps out to correct Ichigo. "If you wish to end services—"

"No!" Ichigo smothers the panic he feels at the very idea, taking a calming breath to recover. "I don't want that. If it's about money…"

"That is not a concern. As I mentioned at our first meeting, I do a bit of pro bono work."

"You're not charging him?" Karin interrupts. "You mean you willingly talk to this guy _for free_?"

"Karin-chan," Yuzu gently rebukes. "That's very nice of you, Ishida-kun."

Obviously startled at his sister's familiarity, Ishida nods once in recognition. He turns to Ichigo, who stops scowling at his sisters to return the look. It occurs to him that they are probably bothering the man by making a fuss in his reception room, though there's no one else here yet. Ichigo opens his mouth to apologize but Ishida beats him to it.

"I have a little spare time, if you'd like to chat."

"Really?" both women blurt in unison.

Ishida smiles at them and gestures for them to follow into his office. But Ichigo catches the raised eyebrow he shows Nanao, and her answering smirk. Inside, Ichigo foregoes his usual spot across from Ishida's chair in favor of a seat further away. Yuzu and Karin plop onto the couch and excitedly gape as they look around the room.

"It's so _normal_," comments Karin.

"It smells really nice," grins Yuzu.

"You guys…" grumbles Ichigo, embarrassed.

"So this is where you shrink my brother's head?"

"Karin-chan means: is this where Ichi-nii talks with you?"

"Yes. This is my office," Ishida answers as he takes his seat. "I'm sorry to hear we interrupted the family picnic."

"It's no big deal," Karin shrugs. "Dad's probably crying alone on the lawn without us but he does that once a week anyway."

"She's joking!" Waving her hands in distress, Yuzu negates her sister's assertion. "Dad doesn't really cry all that much."

"That's good to hear," Ishida laughs a little. "But don't worry: I don't make a habit of diagnosing those who aren't my clients."

"O-of course."

"So what do you two do here—I mean besides talking." Karin's eyes are on Ishida so she doesn't see the way Ichigo stiffens behind her. Ishida does, however, and he sends Ichigo a reassuring glance. "I watched this movie about all these experiments and stuff psychiatrists do. Drugs and hypnosis and mind games. Stuff like that."

"I'm afraid I can't discuss those topics. You would have to ask Kurosaki, but I doubt he'll tell you."

"Nah, we've already asked him a million—hey, aren't you supposed to use a suffix with your patients?"

"I made him drop it," Ichigo finally joins the conversation. "Since he refuses to use my given name."

"Uwah…Ichi-nii is a rebel!" Yuzu breathes. "I heard it's really serious how doctors are supposed to act, what they should say and do."

"Ishida's cool. Not like those stuffy old geezers."

"How old are you, Ishida-kun?" Yuzu asks him. When he tells her she gasps. "So young!"

"I get that a lot."

"That's probably why Ichigo likes you so much."

"Karin!"

"What?" she innocently asks with a backward glance at Ichigo. "I just meant since you've stuck with Ishida-kun longer than anyone else. You'd have to like him, right?"

"Yeah, and you seem really nice."

"Thank you, Yuzu-chan."

She giggles and mirrors Ishida's pleasant smile. Karin gets swept up in it next and suddenly the three of them are practically beaming at each other. Ichigo rolls his eyes at them and fights an urge to walk out and let them be maudlin all they want. He doesn't like the idea of his shrink and his sisters being so chummy for some reason.

"Anyways, Ishida has better things to do than indulge you two. Let's go."

"But we still have so many questions," cries Yuzu. "Like…where did you grow up?"

"In this town, like us," Ichigo says, standing to tug at their shirts. "Come on."

"Are you married?" Karin asks as she fends him off.

"Single," Ichigo grits when she slaps at his hand.

"Any children?" Yuzu continues.

"None," Ichigo snaps.

"What do you do for fun?"

"He studies, writes papers, and occasionally watches TV. Now stop bugging Ishida and get out!"

Now all three of them are staring at Ichigo, probably for the same reason. Karin is the one to voice it.

"Wow, Ichigo, you know a lot about your psychiatrist. You know his shoes size, too?"

Ichigo snorts and rolls his eyes in dismissal. Then he registers the look on Ishida's face and sobers up. Ishida has had to tell him several times to stop asking invasive questions because, as Yuzu said, doctors are supposed to keep distance with their patients. If Ichigo wasn't so good at annoying Ishida to the point that he answers just to shut him up, Ichigo is pretty sure the man would never volunteer information about himself.

"No, I just—it's not like that. Ishida is just kind of interesting so I end up asking him things."

His sisters take turns glancing between them. Yuzu looks confused while Karin seems suspicious. If one of them were to mention this to the wrong people, it could potentially get Ishida into trouble. Ichigo resolves to make them promise to keep their mouths shut as soon as they get home.

"Makes sense," Karin decides. Standing, she motions for Yuzu to do the same. "It was nice meeting you, Ishida-kun."

Ichigo inwardly sighs with relief when Ishida rises to take her offered hand, throwing in a shallow bow for good measure. Turning to show Yuzu the same courtesy, he is startled by a light hug. Ichigo laughs at his widened eyes over her short shoulder.

"Thank you, Ishida-kun," she says when she pulls away. "For helping Ichi-nii. It means so much to us."

"I'm happy to help," he softly replies. She nods, acknowledging his sincerity.

Watching Ishida return their waves as they leave his office, Ichigo pauses near the entrance and turns to him with a pensive expression.

"Sorry about that. They've been nagging me for a while to see this place but I didn't expect them to ambush you."

"It's absolutely fine. They're great girls."

Nodding absently, Ichigo frowns towards the floor before raising his gaze to lock onto Ishida's. All at once his discomfort is replaced with determination.

"Thanks for not saying anything to them about…all of this." Ichigo gestures to Ishida and the room in general. "I mean I know you can't anyway, but thanks."

"Of course. And Kurosaki, about their questions—"

"Yeah, they're nosy, huh?" he huffs a fake laugh, demeanor becoming tense and awkward as he realizes where Ishida is going with this. "They watch too many dramas."

"That's not what I mean."

"Well, I'm sure you're busy and we have to get back to our cry-baby dad before he eats all the cheese by himself. See you later, Ishida!"

"Kurosaki, wait."

But it's too late. He is out the door and herding his sisters from the reception area towards the hall in a flash. In the hall just out of view, Ichigo pauses at the sound of his name. His sisters keep walking as they chat about Ishida on the way out. Feeling like a creeper, he lurks behind the wall and listens.

"It's always rush in, rush out with Kurosaki-san, isn't it?" Nanao comments in a bored tone.

"He lives fast, that's for sure."

"Complete opposite of sensei in most ways."

"Agreed."

Ichigo can't see how that would be a good thing. Being the opposite of someone like Ishida would mean Ichigo is dumb-as-dirt, messy, dangerously impulsive, and completely inept. Maybe that's not how they mean it, but…No, he doesn't like the idea of being anti-Ishida one bit.

"Although…"

"In what ways are we _not_ complete opposites?"

With a smile in her voice, Nanao answers, "Compassion for others, of course, and the strength to act on it."

* * *

><p>Isshin's pathetic blubbering can be heard from the walkway before they even open the door. Rolling his eyes, Ichigo unlocks the door and pushes it open to let his sisters walk in first. By the time he closes it behind them, their father is already whining about being abandoned.<p>

"What have I done to deserve such neglectful children?" he warbles from a pitiful sprawl on the living room floor. As they predicted, he has eaten most of the cheese from Yuzu's picnic basket by himself. Bits of gouda litter his shirt and stick at the corners of his mouth. "On this all-important day of remembrance, the only day we always band together as a family and—"

"Oh, shut up already," Ichigo cuts him off, out of patience after a trying afternoon. "We're here now, aren't we? Let's go see Mom's grave before it starts to get dark."

"Karin, can you get the other block of cheese from the fridge?"

She answers Yuzu in the affirmative and does as requested. Meanwhile, Ichigo's youngest sister packs the basket back up and gets their things ready to go. He takes one look at the streams of forced tears crusting in his father's beard and sighs. Isshin accepts the hand his son offers and allows himself to be pulled off the carpet. Wiping those stupid tears, he eyes Ichigo with something a little too much like pride for his comfort.

"My boy…"

"Let's go, Dad. Mom's waiting for us."

"Yeah."

Ichigo doesn't really know why he didn't tell Ishida it's the anniversary of his mother's death today. The first time he had mentioned her to Ichigo, asking such a casual question, he had tensed up instinctively. The only people he wants to discuss her with are his family, and only on very rare occasions. As it is, Ichigo ends up feeling depressed for weeks around this anniversary without the added difficulty of discussing it with others.

Yuzu sets the basket aside and takes the cloth Karin hands her. Ichigo brushes oak leaves and pine needles from the memorial while Isshin kneels to replace a vase of sunflowers. They work in tandem to spruce it up just like always. There is a quiet comfort in this ritual, the ease of an established process perfected over time. Each of them immersed in their own contemplation and communion. Together and apart.

"Mom would be really happy you're making strides to get better, Ichi-nii."

"Not that she wouldn't already be proud," Karin adds, to Yuzu's nodded agreement. "It's not every Joe Schmoe off the streets who can make it through all that and become a nurse, dedicated to helping others."

"Though you shoulda been a doctor," his dad grumbles. "Still can if you'd go back to school."

"Dad…" Ichigo warns, having had this argument with him before. "You know I can't afford it."

"Girls, why don't you two go set up the picnic for us?"

They watch the two of them uncertainly for a moment before Karin takes her sister's arm to lead her away. Once they're out of earshot, Isshin lowers his voice and addresses him with rare solemnity. Ichigo takes a steadying breath.

"Ichigo, your mother and I always had the highest hopes for you. From the moment you were old enough to walk we knew you were special."

"Dad, don't—"

"Hear me out, son. This is important."

Seeing the truth of it in his stoic face, the terse angle of his thick eyebrows, Ichigo sighs and resigns himself to listen.

"Okay."

"I know all parents think their kids are special, but you had a light that most kids lack. A keen intelligence, sure, but the real value of your character is the depth of love and affection you would show us every single day."

Miraculously, his father gets choked up as he speaks. His tone lacks the usual melodramatic pitch denoting frivolity. Ichigo almost shivers to see the goofy rock that is Isshin fraying at the edges.

"I know that," Ichigo tells him in a murmur. "I was a happy kid thanks to you two and I'll always be grateful."

"That's my boy," he smiles fleetingly. "But that's not why I'm saying this."

"Then why?"

A brief moment's contemplation precedes his answer. "What you've been through…no one should have to face that alone. I'm so glad that you finally found someone you trust enough to help you work through it."

"Me, too. Ishida's a decent guy."

"But you haven't told him about Masaki, have you?"

Scowling and looking away, "No."

"That's okay. Take your time, Ichigo. Take your time and when you're ready to pick up the pieces at last, I will be there. Whatever you need, just ask."

"Got it," he nods, feeling on the verge of a good weep himself now. "Thanks, Dad."

"And when you've reached the point you feel you can finally move on, I'll help you go back to school. I've been saving up everything you've given me and adding to it when I can. You deserve that and so much more."

"I give that to you so you won't lose the clinic!"

"I won't," he hurriedly assures Ichigo with a wide grin, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I can handle it, I promise. Think of me as your personal bank, kiddo. Just say the word and it's yours."

Rendered speechless by this gleaming picture of fatherly benediction Isshin paints, Ichigo swallows and returns the hug he is dragged into. Luckily it doesn't last long. They separate none the worse for emotional wear and join the girls for a very late lunch in the dying sun. Ichigo takes the bowl of fruit Karin passes him and thanks Yuzu for pouring his drink. His father beams while chatting amiably about nothing at all.

When Ichigo thinks of his mother, imagines her here with them again, a precious wash of peace settles into his bones.

* * *

><p>AN: This chapter is kind of short and sweet, setting up a little back-story for some events later. So the next update will be tomorrow, with a guest appearance by Shirosaki!<p> 


	5. Leading You There

He waits a couple of weeks to bring the subject up with Kurosaki. There is no best way to go about this but Uryuu must be very cautious. Ukitake reminded him that most people suffering from DID don't even realize they're sharing time with alters. Shoving that suddenly in someone's face can be incredibly dangerous to the psyche. In the interim, he focuses on Kurosaki's anger and impulse-control. He assigns practice with the techniques Kyouraku instructed and asks about Kurosaki's progress, which is positive.

When he senses a heightened stability in Kurosaki today, Uryuu decides it is time to take that next step.

"Kurosaki, I would like to discuss your black-outs."

"What about 'em?"

"Did you ever consider that the issue might lie not with your memory, but your perspective?"

"The hell does that mean?"

Looking out the window to the sun-streaked foliage oscillating with summer wind, Uryuu takes a second to phrase this properly. Part of him wants to just blurt things like 'multiple personalities' and 'PTSD' but that won't get him anywhere. Kurosaki inspires that type of eager forwardness in him more often than he'd like to admit. But the very last thing he wants to do is damage this man in any way. So he takes his time.

"When you fought those young men in the alley, do you remember hearing a voice or feeling another presence right before you lost time?" Kurosaki frowns, thinking hard about that time. When he doesn't respond, Uryuu tries again. "And when you spoke with me about your past partners a while back, did you feel something inside you shifting. Maybe a feeling similar to falling into quicksand or through a trapdoor?"

"M-maybe, I…I don't know."

Touching a shaking hand to his forehead, Kurosaki stares hard at the floor and blinks rapidly. Uryuu can tell the strain of remembering what parts of him clearly wants to keep hidden is becoming too much for him. Quickly, he changes the subject.

"If you're amenable, Kurosaki, how about we play a simple game?"

"What kind of game?"

"It's called word-association. I will say a word or short phrase and you will tell me the first image or idea that comes to mind."

"I've heard of that," he says, lowering his hand to see Uryuu clearly. "What's the point of it—to gauge my state of mind or something?"

"Precisely."

"I guess it's all right."

Uryuu gives a small smile as he pulls a clipboard from his desk. He reads from a prepared list and records Kurosaki's answers. Starting with easy ones like 'cat' and receiving normal answers like 'dog', Uryuu slowly works up to more abstract notions. Phrases such as 'significant other' and responses of 'boyfriend' are far more telling. But still average, considering Kurosaki's inclinations. The interesting bits come towards the very end.

"Suicide," Uryuu levelly recites, glancing up to watch the reaction.

Kurosaki frowns incrementally, eyes darting to three separate spots before he meets Uryuu's steady gaze and says, "Mistake."

"Murder."

Eyes widen and Uryuu watches uncertainty bloom in them. Kurosaki will thank him for this later, but for now he is unable to comprehend the purpose of this torment. His heart twinges to think he is abusing Kurosaki's hard-won trust in him to achieve what may inevitably save him.

"…Evil."

"Loss of control."

"Inevitable."

Uryuu's eyes narrow and he recognizes the tipping point. Following Ukitake's advice, he exploits the opening.

"Do you fear losing control, Kurosaki?" he murmurs quick and cold like the slide of a knife. "Fear your own fury when you start to slip into that dark place that always finds you at your lowest?"

Stunned, the man's jaw falls as his chest does double-time.

"Ishida…" he warns—begs Uryuu to stop. He almost does. Then he remembers why they are here.

"You know _the other_ is always waiting for you to fail. To rise up and shut you out of your own body when you don't have the courage to—"

"Doc," Kurosaki's alter cuts him off. "Just who the _fuck _do ya think yer gabbin' at?"

"You tell me."

Sinister, calculating eyes turn on him. Uryuu feels the instinctive trepidation of prey before a predator. It's a familiar enough sensation; one he has previously associated with the anticipation of pleasure. Thanks to his wild ex-boyfriend. An inappropriate mixture of the two reactions trip him up for a critical moment.

"Clever boy," the man praises. "Figured us out, didn'tcha?"

"You weren't exactly subtle the last time we met."

"Like I care whether ya know just how broken poor little Ichigo is," he huffs, flopping a wrist in ennui. "Kudos to ya for being the first to figure out how to call me out, though."

"And who are 'you'?" Uryuu asks, absolutely fascinated. He can't help leaning forward eagerly as he asks, "What is your name?"

"I ain't got one."

"Surely you must go by something…"

"Ichigo calls me 'Shirosaki', on account of us bein' total opposites, but that ain't my name."

"Kurosaki is aware of your existence, then?" Uryuu almost leaps from his chair in shock. "Going so far as to nickname you!"

"Sometimes he is, sometimes he ain't. Just depends." With a sigh and an indolent stretch, Shirosaki stands and looks around in annoyance. "Look, Doc, I ain't got time to play twenty questions with ya. Ichigo won't lemme out to play very often, so I gotta take what I can get when I can, ya know? See ya."

"Wait, Shirosaki!"

"Huh?"

"Play a quick game with me and I'll make it interesting for you."

It's a bluff—mostly. But Uryuu is desperate. He doesn't want to unleash the alter that tends to beat people up, cheat on lovers, and break into places. Also, he wants to learn more about him while he has him here. A little moral wiggle-room is necessary for these kinds of delicate situations, right?

"Yeah?" Shirosaki breathes, sidling back to stand a handbreadth from Uryuu, who unwittingly jumped from his seat to stop him. "How'll ya do that, Doc?"

"Answer a few more questions for me and you'll see."

"Not good enough."

"What would you like, then?" he offers as Shirosaki turns to leave again.

"I think I made it clear last time what I want from you," the man purrs, dipping down the few inches difference in their heights to inhale from between the strands of Uryuu's hair. Lips brush his ear in passing and it takes everything Uryuu has not to shiver from it. "But ya can't do that with me here, can ya?"

"Unfortunately."

"Then I'm not interested."

"Is Kurosaki?" Uryuu asks because he just has to know for some reason. "Interested, I mean."

He has heard Kurosaki's low laughter on several occasions by now. It is a self-conscious, quiet thing full of warmth and hesitant affection. The sounds that come from his throat now are none of those. Shirosaki giggles high and mischievous like a mental patient. It warbles with his Adam's apple and hints at a brutality just below the surface.

"Why do you ask, Doc?"

The way he asks, with a careful tilt of his head while peering down at Uryuu through slatted eyes indicates condescension. He falters, realizing that he has said something careless. But Shirosaki just laughs again and strides from his office. Hesitating where he stands, Uryuu hears the alter shout an extremely impolite catcall at Ise on his way out. Uryuu follows him past her desk, through the reception area, and into the stairwell.

"Shirosaki, wait!" His entreaty echoes around the looping concrete structure, soon joined by that bone-chilling giggle. "I've changed my mind. Come back into my office and—"

Turning a corner too quickly, he doesn't see Shirosaki's lurking frame until it's slamming him against the wall. Uryuu loses his breath for a vital moment. Adrenaline surges at the mild pain radiating from his shoulders and he quickly suppresses the instinctive reaction to fight back. Although Shirosaki isn't attacking him, the fierce light to his eyes is still disconcerting. He holds Uryuu firmly to the cold white bricks with an arm across his collar bone. They both know he could easily escape from it if he chose.

"I'm not as dense as Ichigo, y'know. I've got a better nose for sniffin' lies, too."

"I can't let you leave like this," Uryuu calmly returns. "You could hurt someone."

"If ya try'n make me stay, I'll hurt _you_, Doc."

"No. You won't."

Grin widening into a jackal's leer, "Wanna bet?"

"Do I seem afraid, Shirosaki?" The man blinks at that, humor abating as he looks into Uryuu's unperturbed eyes. He pushes against Shirosaki's chest and the man takes a step back, dropping the restrictive arm to frown in puzzlement. "You're used to being the 'big, bad wolf,' aren't you? What do you do when you can't inspire terror in your victims?"

"I give 'em a reason to be terrified," he snarls after a short pause. "So don't tempt me."

"Show me."

"Wha—"

"If you're such a badass, why don't you show me?" Buzzing with something between fear and excitement, Uryuu steps towards him in challenge. "Come on, Shirosaki, _terrify me_."

With a confused growl, Shirosaki lunges for him but Uryuu is already dodging. Sprinting up the stairs towards the lounge which is always empty at this time of day. He has to get Kurosaki back in charge before this gets any worse. At least trigger a less aggressive alter, if he even has one. Chances are Kurosaki has at least two, according to the statistics, so Uryuu just has to stress his psyche until another switch occurs. And since defusing the conversation didn't work he'll have to try escalation.

Shirosaki is hot on his heels. Verging on becoming out of breath after running up five flights, Uryuu bursts through the door and breathes a sigh of relief as he crosses the short hall to the vacant room. Inside are a kitchenette area, lounge area with sofas and TV, and a wide dining table with chairs. He skids to a stop on the other side of the table and drags out a chair to hold between him and Shirosaki. Suddenly he sympathizes with lion tamers. The man is panting as hard as Uryuu, looking all the more feral for the glare he has adopted.

"The chase was fun, Lil' Rabbit, but now I've caught ya. Prepare t'be eaten."

There is nothing friendly about the smile he flashes Uryuu; it is equal parts violence and lust. Maybe he should be scared. But Uryuu knows something Shirosaki does not. Releasing the chair, he kicks it aside and leaves his arms at his sides, palms relaxed. Shirosaki raises an eyebrow but can't be bothered with caution. He pounces at Uryuu, who uses his momentum and a quick turn to shove him aside at the last second. Recovering fast, Shirosaki swipes at him. Uryuu kicks out a foot to knock him from his feet. Before the man can get up, Uryuu uses the chair to pin him to the floor between its narrow, sturdy legs. Biting back a victory smirk, he sinks into the chair to weigh it down.

"What was that about catching a rabbit, Shirosaki?"

"Ya sonuva—get this fuckin' chair off me!"

He watches Shirosaki wriggle and flop for a minute until they're both satisfied he is trapped. Paying close attention, Uryuu does not miss the moment Shirosaki gives up and goes still. It is all the more obvious due to the matching change in expression. The manic light dims from his eyes and becomes a sullen shadow instead. Eyebrows crease in close resemblance with Kurosaki's usual tension, though there is a more resigned lilt to them now.

"Shirosaki?" he tries. The man gives him a look that implies insulting things about Uryuu's intelligence. "Kurosaki?"

"Neither," comes a listless monotone. "Keep guessing and you might just get it before we both expire of dehydration."

Startled, Uryuu gets up to pull the chair away and warily free his new captive. The man stands slowly, as if injured, and Uryuu has to keep himself from reaching out to check for any. This new alter walks over to the nearest couch and sinks into it with a weary slouch. Joining him, Uryuu can't help thinking he reminds him of a moody teenager. Yet, there is a profound sorrow radiating from his features that speaks of a long, difficult life. He lifts disinterested eyes to Uryuu and blinks.

"What is your name?"

"Why should I tell you?"

"I'm curious."

"It doesn't matter. None of it matters."

"Surely that isn't true," Uryuu insists, heart zinging at the red flag phrase. If he just dragged out a long-repressed suicidal alter…Shirosaki would have been preferable to that. "Some things matter to you, don't they? Kurosaki matters."

"He is a fool. An arrogant brat." Though his words are harsh, they are said without much emotion. "Look at what he has made of himself. The lives he has ruined. The opportunities he has squandered."

"Everyone makes mistakes."

"We are cursed, a blight to all we touch."

"_No_," Uryuu hisses with abrupt anger. He leans forward and stares into those darkened eyes. "You, Kurosaki, even Shirosaki—you're all worthy of friendship. Acceptance. Love. Don't you dare say otherwise."

"There are reasons most cultures lock up kids like Ichigo. You don't know what we're capable of."

"Neither do you." Contemplative at that, he falls silent and allows Uryuu to elaborate. "I know Kurosaki is struggling right now but I also know he can change. He can work through this with the proper care and improve his life—all of your lives—in good time. Don't lose hope. Don't _ever_ lose hope."

Something begins to lighten in his demeanor. Uryuu waits out the silence, sensing complex thoughts in process. When the man stands after a lengthy pause, Uryuu mirrors him. He speaks two words before turning to leave.

"Thank you."

"Wait," Uryuu requests, taking gentle hold of his arm. "Promise me you'll go home right after this. Promise me you won't hurt anyone else…or yourself."

Gazing at Uryuu with gentle comprehension, his brow relaxes a fraction and he nods once. "I promise, Ishida Uryuu."

* * *

><p>Their next session starts out somewhat strained.<p>

Uryuu had checked the news that day for orange-haired delinquents terrorizing the town after Kurosaki left his office. Thankfully, he found nothing. Kurosaki has no new black-outs to report, either. Though he is openly confused about why he can't remember leaving Uryuu's building last Thursday. He is asking too many pointed questions and giving Uryuu those clear, honest eyes. Looking to him for guidance. But Uryuu doesn't think Kurosaki is ready for the full truth just yet. He doesn't want to push too far and risk shoving him over a cliff.

So he thinks of the most inane, unrelated thing to discuss and opens with that. Something he's been meaning to bring up anyway.

"You mentioned a young woman you knew in high school. Orihime, wasn't it?"

"Did I? Yeah, um," Kurosaki scratches absently at his scalp. It is a token of their progress that he now readily talks about a former romance. "Inoue is what I called her. Inoue Orihime."

"Did you go to Karakura High?"

"Yeah. Is that in my file?"

"No, nothing that detailed."

"Then how'd you know?"

"Because a good friend of mine is named Inoue Orihime. She and I met in Karakura High School."

"No way!" Kurosaki grins, lighting up at the idea. "You saying you and I went to the same school?"

"I was a young senior when you were a freshman," he calculates, thinking back to those two years with little difficulty. "But yes, for one year we were practically classmates."

"That's so weird," he laughs. Kurosaki looks at Uryuu, squinting and tilting his head as though he could picture him a decade younger. "Now you mention it, I remember seeing your name on the scoreboards. I thought it was read 'Ametatsu' instead of 'Uryuu'. Figured it was some smart chick who kept beating everybody out. To think it was a nerdy little kid my age!"

Uryuu inwardly rolls his eyes, taking the insult without offense. "It is unusual that we would end up running into each other again after all these years. In a different city, no less."

"Do you believe in fate?"

He thinks it's a joke. Yet, Kurosaki isn't smiling: he's waiting for an answer.

"Not really."

"Yeah, me neither."

But the light frown and averted gaze say otherwise. Slowly, the novelty of past acquaintance fades and Kurosaki sinks in to his thoughts as Uryuu watches the humor recede. In its place forms a cloudy mood denoted by the frown pulling at Kurosaki's mouth and brow. It is an upsetting memory he is reliving, but not on a scale with those which seem to force a switch.

"How were your experiences in high school?" Uryuu asks as gently as possible because he suspects the answer.

"Not great."

"Were you in therapy at the time?"

"Not for very long. The school counselor had a listening problem. Talked over me more than she heard what I said, so I stopped going."

"Were you referred to her?"

"Yeah, by a teacher who found me—" Kurosaki frowns, cutting himself off and glancing away in discomfort. Uryuu waits for him to choose whether he wants to share this or not. "He caught me on the roof. Thought I was smoking or something. Then he saw my shoes."

Uryuu nods slightly with the confirmation of Kurosaki's near suicide attempt. There are always cues and signals in someone who has reached that point and turned back for whatever reason. He understands these things are often best dealt with after the patient freely divulges such a delicate matter on their own. Uryuu is just glad it happened sooner rather than later.

"Did the therapist prescribe medication? That's a standard practice these days."

"Yeah, she tried," Kurosaki wryly grins. "I balled the 'script up and threw it at her, then walked out of her office."

"Have you ever taken antidepressants?"

"That's funny," he says, staring at Uryuu like he just grew horns. "Pills are like the very first thing shrinks try to sell you—as soon as they hear the word 'sad'—but you. It took you this long to even ask. That's what I like about you, Ishida. You just don't do anything normal."

"Thank you," Uryuu sarcastically mutters.

Then Kurosaki genuinely replies, "You're welcome," and Uryuu struggles with an odd feeling as the man smiles at him.

"Then you've never accepted medication?"

"Hell no." Uryuu must be giving him a pensive expression because Kurosaki's obstinacy wanes. Replaced with a faint uncertainty. "Why—you think it'd help?"

"In some cases a combination of therapy and chemicals may be most effective. In your case, Kurosaki, I believe we stand more to gain by avoiding mood-altering drugs. I don't think your condition is a neurological deficiency, but more likely a series of significant trauma sustained over your lifetime which has steadily eroded your primary sense of self." Uryuu stops there before he accidentally says anything indicative of his knowledge of Kurosaki's alters. Judging by the thoughtful look on his face, however, Uryuu worries he has failed. Before he can start asking those questions, Uryuu continues. "What about recreational drugs?"

"You asking if I'm a druggie now?"

"Not at all. You might be surprised, Kurosaki, to know that a majority of citizens have tried them at some point in their lives." Uryuu resists the urge to start rattling off statistics, knowing it won't do any good with Kurosaki. "I don't mean to assume you're a _habitual_ drug user by any means. I am curious, however, as to whether you have had experiences with them and how they may have affected your condition."

"I used to smoke pot and cigarettes at university sometimes…"

"Tetrahydrocannabinol—the active chemical found in cannabinoids frequently called THC—has been shown to alleviate a variety of mental distress symptoms such as anxiety, anger, and feelings of hopelessness. It also stimulates the creative centers of the brain quite effectively."

"Ishida," he laughs, "Are you telling me to get high as a form of therapy?"

"Of course, as your psychiatrist I cannot advise the illegal use of medicinal supplements." Even if Kyouraku-sensei wouldn't hesitate to do so. "What about a psychoactive compound commonly called Ecstasy? It was originally developed as a treatment for soldiers suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder."

"Oh, man…"

"Is this discussion making you uncomfortable?"

"No, it's not that," Kurosaki shakes his head and gives Uryuu an odd look. "You talking about this stuff just has me wondering if _you_ have ever tried this shit. It's kind of an awesome idea. How un-Ishida-like you'd be without your rules and inhibitions."

Balking at that, Uryuu holds his comments because he suspects he might stutter them right now. Kurosaki would be tickled to know that Uryuu has tried a few different drugs due to the influence of others close to him. He has never liked how they strip his inhibitions from him, though, so he is not exactly fond of the notion. A part of him whispers that with Kurosaki it might not be so bad.

"Yes, well—"

"I tried X once. I can't say whether it had much of an effect on my mental health, though," he smirks at the memory, "Since I spent most of the night having too much sex. Woke up dehydrated and sore."

"T-those are common side-effects," Uryuu clears his throat to say. It's his turn to picture Kurosaki indulging in a nice high. "Particularly the, um, _amorous_ activities you mentioned. Although its therapeutic use is aimed more towards anxiety-reduction."

"Then it worked. Anxiety was the furthest thing from my mind."

"Would you be interested in trying it again—the drug, not the, um. Sex part." Uryuu purposely avoids Kurosaki's eyes as he speaks, pretending to jot down a note on his clipboard instead. "There are certain compounds very similar to ecstasy which are legal, though less effective."

"You have, haven't you? Tried drugs." Kurosaki looks him up and down with a shrewd expression. When Uryuu doesn't answer, he shrugs. "I wouldn't be against it, I guess. But I don't want to have to take anything regularly."

"Understandable."

"Anyway, I thought you said I don't need pills."

"It was just an idea."

"You were curious, huh?" Kurosaki snickers. "Admit it."

"I may have been slightly…"

"I knew it."

Uryuu wavers on the choice between being affronted or taking it with grace. After a moment he smirks and Kurosaki's grin widens. Any other patient and Uryuu would have closed right up and put on his professional mask. Working with Kurosaki makes that delineation very difficult at times. So he says something he probably shouldn't. Something that spreads an embarrassed flush across Kurosaki's cheeks.

"At least I'm not the one gleefully imagining my psychiatrist high on drugs."

* * *

><p>AN: Any guesses as to who the new alter is?<p> 


	6. Doomed or Die

AN: The song mentioned in this chapter is "Inertia Creeps" by Massive Attack, in case anyone is curious.

Also, special guest from last chapter was Tensa Zangetsu (Ichigo's bankai persona)!

* * *

><p>Ichigo has been seeing Ishida for nearly three months when he suddenly realizes something awful: he has a crush on his psychiatrist. No, more accurately he is obsessed with him. You're only a stalker if you're obsessed, right? Yeah, then he is obsessed with Ishida. Why else would he have blown off a night hanging out with the friends he doesn't see often enough to lurk outside of Ishida's office building, waiting for him to emerge <em>two hours <em>after his last appointment ended?

Ichigo knows this is nuts. He has never stalked anyone before—that he is aware of—and he knows this is _so_ bad. It started with a conversation with Chad, who figured it out just by listening to the way Ichigo talked about him. Smiling with memories of the things Ishida has said. Expressing excitement at the prospect of their next session. Musing aloud what he's like outside of work. Of course Chad would encourage him to go find out.

So instead of asking the guy to hang out some time—Ishida would have to refuse due to stupid rules anyway—Ichigo crouches behind a prickly shrub and waits for the man to come out at long last. Ishida carries a briefcase in one hand and uses the other to wrap a brown scarf around his neck as he descends the stairs. Ichigo trails him in the deeper shadows of the building's jutting cornice as he makes his way down to the parking garage. He watches Ishida store his case in the trunk before unlocking his door with the button on his keychain.

Reaching for the handle, Ishida is startled when the voice of a man calls out across the deserted space. Ichigo follows his line of sight and spots a rough-looking man with swooping teal hair and a feral grin. His hands rest innocuously in his tight jeans pockets as he pads slowly over to Ishida.

"What are you doing here, Grimmjaw?" Ishida demands with the strict tone he has had to use on Ichigo a couple of times. "I told you never to come to my workplace."

"Well, you weren't takin' my calls, so what'd you expect?"

"I expect you to take the 'hint' and leave me alone. I believe I made it perfectly clear where we stand now."

The man scoffs and raises his chin insolently as he stares down at Ishida. Ichigo tenses when Ishida's posture changes to defensiveness as this Grimmjaw guy crowds into his personal bubble. He's so ready to eschew stealth if it looks like Ishida can't handle this psycho on his own. The man reaches for Ishida and Ichigo prepares to jump out. Then, with an almost casual combination of quick movements, Ishida has the man sprawling on the oily concrete before him. Grimmjaw gives a shocked cough and snickers where he lies.

"And I made it clear," he grits as he picks himself up, "That you ain't the one who decides where we stand."

Fast as a panther's pounce and with similar force, he pins Ishida to his car and—

Ichigo's brain stutters a bit because the two of them are kissing…hardcore. Teeth and tongues and it is so energetic that Ichigo can _hear _it from a dozen meters away. Most surprising of all, Ishida is kissing back. Not pushing him away or just playing along, but really participating. The kiss only lasts about a minute before Ishida is breaking away, though. Both men are breathing hard, glaring with a mix of arousal and annoyance.

"There's the goodbye kiss you asked for."

"Nah, I asked for a goodbye fuck on my studio floor."

"Do I need to put you back in your place?" Ishida growls.

Grimmjaw laughs loud and challenging, but Ichigo can detect the side-effect of Ishida's warning because Ichigo felt it, too. If he had any doubt after talking with Chad, it's gone now. Ichigo's brain is buzzing pleasantly, intoxicated by the thought of Ishida speaking to him like that. Looking at him like that. Maybe with less resentment and more lust, but yeah. The notion that Ishida is apparently into guys runs energetic laps around his head.

"Just like one of your _criminals_?" Grimmjaw croons in a mockery of yearning as he steps closer. Ichigo feels a jolt of offense at the designation. "Teach me how to be a good boy again, Uryuu-sensei!"

"I told you not to call me that," he hisses back, narrowing his eyes. "You lost that right when you chose your addictions over me. Now get the fuck out of my way, Grimmjaw."

With that, he yanks open his door and gets into his car, immediately driving off. Grimmjaw scowls but doesn't attempt a chase.

Frozen, Ichigo watches them for a few seconds. That was the first curse word he's ever heard from Ishida's mouth. The first time he has considered that his shrink might also occasionally lose his temper and get rude. Then he bolts for his own car parked on the street. He almost changes his mind about tracking Ishida tonight. If he gets caught after that little scene, there's no way Ishida will forgive him! Yet, curiosity compels him and Ichigo puts his car into gear just in time to catch Ishida turning a corner. He focuses on staying as far behind as possible to avoid detection.

Shame and an overwhelming sense of foolishness twist his insides but Ichigo knows it can't be helped. Whenever he gets an urge this strong and tries to fight it, he always ends up acting on it later anyway. Usually in a much worse way than he ever intends. The last thing he wants is to do _anything_ that would upset Ishida. The man can accept so many things about Ichigo's eccentric personality but even Ishida must have limits. Points that, once reached, would make it unfeasible for him to continue treating Ichigo. He doesn't want to think about that possibility.

Instead, he analyzes the motivations behind his fascination. Ichigo rarely shows real interest in people. As far as dating, his partners have mostly been men and women who sought him with persistence, rather than Ichigo reaching out to them. And look how those have turned out. It's not that he hadn't developed feelings towards any of them, though. It's more that the ones he did have were never as strong as they should have been. Part of the issue is his depression, which fluctuates over the years but never fully disappears. Another reason is that Ichigo never felt understood; always secretly believed that if people knew the 'real him' they would run screaming.

Then there is Ishida. Someone who has treated him with respect and accepted him in every possible way. No matter what instances of sabotage, violence, or idiocy Ichigo has related to his therapist, Ishida never shows him an ounce of contempt. He has never been reproachful in any significant sense. Flexible and intelligent, he works _together_ with Ichigo to make progress in repairing his mental health. They have genuine discussions and listen to each other when they speak. Ishida treats him like the peer that he is, as he deserves. Whereas almost all of Ichigo's previous experiences with therapists have either been one disapproving parent or terrified peon after another.

More than any of that, however, Ishida is an intriguing person on his own. As per the psychiatrists' rule book—or whatever crap they have to follow like a bible—Ishida doesn't like to reveal personal facts if he can help it. But Ichigo has gotten very good at getting him to let things slip without realizing until it's too late. Things about his family life or his childhood. What kinds of foods he likes and how he takes his tea. Places he has visited and countries he would still like to see. Ichigo savors all of these hard-won snippets of information. He has been all along without noticing what it meant because he has never really felt this before. Rukia was as close as he got and…that turned out to be a disaster.

He is snapped out of his thoughts as he sees Ishida's brake lights flare and pull into a driveway leading to another parking garage. Ichigo keeps driving a block up the road. They are in a classy apartment complex of well-managed lofts. The sidewalk Ichigo steps out onto is clean and free of cracks. Glancing to the street reveals it to be in a similar condition. Skateboarding would be a piece of cake in this neighborhood.

Ichigo passes wrought-iron fences and healthy foliage as he makes his surreptitious way down towards the door Ishida unlocks with practiced precision. He waits behind a convenient tree until he hears it close again. Then Ichigo looks around to make sure no one sees him slip into the small alley between structures. The first window he comes across is covered with blinds and pale blue curtains. The next one has a tiny gap lifted at the bottom corner, revealing a neat dining room furnished with a dark wooden table set. A white cloth drapes under two glass candle holders bearing green votives. The only other piece of decoration is a circular area rug patterned in muted gold, brown, and beige.

Moving on, he avoids the patio area and backdoor in favor of a window beaming dim frosted light onto the trimmed grass below its slightly parted pane. Ichigo crouches and peeks through the spotless glass. Inside he can see Ishida has removed his outerwear and set his briefcase on a table by the door. His psychiatrist is swiping at a tablet plugged into an impressive stereo system bordering his television. Soon the smooth, shaking bass of a band Ichigo recognizes as Massive Attack begins to reverberate through the cavernous loft.

The living room is outfitted comparably with Ishida's office: dominated by cool colors with the accessory effects of glass and mirrors to cast reflections and scatterings of light. The floors are covered in a dark wood matched by most of the furniture's accents. Ishida sits on a wide black leather couch and puts the TV on silent for a program about deep sea creatures. He disappears for a handful of minutes before returning in a casual change of clothes. Then Ichigo must duck out of sight because Ishida passes his window to enter the kitchen.

Ichigo has to move to the opposite end of the casing to see a narrow sliver of the room. He watches Ishida pout at his empty cabinets and dismally-stocked refrigerator. Marveling at the fact that Ishida can be absent-minded about some things after all, Ichigo huffs a soundless laugh as the man shrugs and pull out a half-full twenty-pound bag of rice and a packet of fish filets. Ishida absently hums along to the whispery lyrics as he sets up his stove to cook. Water set to boil, he grabs a wine glass and pours a modest amount of cabernet to sip as he waits.

The music permeates the place even to the kitchen, where Ishida begins to tap a toe to the beat. Then his head joins in, dipping and swaying to the measured strains. Ishida's hips get into it, just a bit at first, but soon he is setting down his glass to follow the rhythm properly. Arms flow gracefully to complement the sinuous motion of his torso. Feet shuffle side to side in accord with his shoulders. Blue eyes close and Ichigo goes still. His breath comes shallow and awed as he watches Ishida succumb to the indelible lull of this seductive music.

Ichigo pictures him in a nightclub. Straight-laced, controlled, proper Ishida moving like _this_ amidst the invigorating crush of churning bodies. Imagines what that body would feel like flexing against him. He wonders how Ishida's scent would change with the spices of sweat and desire. Pictures the way he might look at Ichigo in that moment. Drunk on the promise of later and everything they could give to each other. Everything they could _mean_ to each other.

He nearly has a heart attack when a fuzzy brownish object appears on the sill before him. Ichigo gasps and covers his mouth in alarm. It's only a cat come to inspect his unfamiliar smell wafting in through the window. But then it meows at him. Ishida is still dancing in his kitchen, thankfully oblivious to his guard-cat's discovery. Ichigo shoos the cat with a vague gesture. It peers at him with benevolent green eyes and gives another friendly mewl.

"Go _away_," he whispers to it. "Go. Shoo."

Bored, the animal does leave after a minute. Ishida is back at the stove adding ingredients to the prepared appliance. Ichigo inwardly groans at this inevitable turn of events. He would gladly watch Ishida dance all night if he could. Several minutes later, he has finished his drink and poured another. His finished food is set on the table and Ishida faces the ocean show as he eats, back to his window. He is close enough that Ichigo can smell the humble meal, hear the soft sips of wine, and practically feel warmth from the lit candles seeping into his skin.

"What do you want, Nel?" Ishida affectionately asks his cat. "You know you can't have people-food."

The fuzzball is slinking back and forth against his legs under the table, nuzzling for attention. It answers him with an earnest declaration and Ishida giggles when his lowered hand is fervently pushed into. He scratches the cat's tufted ears and pets all the way down to the tip of its arching tail. Ichigo hears the pleased rumble of its insistent purr.

In this moment of intimate contentment, Ichigo becomes aware of a line of thought murmuring in the back of his mind. It tells him that Ishida is everything he has never thought to look for in a partner but knows he needs. It says there probably isn't anyone better suited to Ichigo in the entire world. Adamant, this stern voice proclaims that Ishida is his soul mate. Ichigo can't exactly argue with that assertion, however much it frightens him. Indulging in a bit of creepy curiosity is one thing, but choosing to pursue someone who is firmly off-limits is totally moronic. It's a doomed endeavor which can only bring him pain.

Yet, watching Ishida's innocent display of love strikes something deep within Ichigo. Something so pure and resonant that he can't even pretend to deny it. Floundering in this revelation, Ichigo runs.

* * *

><p>Yuzu calls him later that night. She wants to tell him all about her new job and how her husband is thinking of buying a new car. How they're talking about when they want to have kids. Of course Ichigo is happy for her. He listens to the levity in her voice and it is heartening. Ichigo tells her he is doing well and that their father is the same as usual and that he heard from Karin last week. They say they love each other before they hang up.<p>

Then Ichigo sighs, scrubbing hands over his face, and drops his phone carelessly to the floor with a thudding protest. His body tilts and collapses to his unmade bed. He stares at the insides of his eyelids and listens to the ragged sounds of his own breathing.

There are good days and bad days. Ichigo is sure that is how it will always be. Admittedly, he hasn't felt this low in a while. Since he started counseling with Ishida he has had a much more stable mental state. Less peaks and valleys and more smooth-sailing like normal people. Ichigo can't say he's cured, but he feels a lot closer to sanity and steadfastness than ever before.

Right now it's not so much the shifting turmoil of his personal demons which flay him from the inside out that are making him miserable. No, this time it is the fact that Ichigo is pretty sure he is falling hard. For someone who is legally and professionally bound to keep as much emotional distance between them as humanly possible. And Ichigo knows there is no way around it. Ishida dropped off his list of potential boyfriends the instant he put Ichigo on his list of patients. Even if he got a new doctor, no amount of time after their sessions stopped would make it okay. He _knows _that, but.

But he can't help imagining it. Wishing for it.

A knock at the door interrupts his brooding. With effort, Ichigo pulls himself off the mattress and pads across his floor to answer it. Chad looks solemnly at him, one eye hidden behind a curly, slanting wall of hair. Of all Ichigo's friends, Chad always seems to sense when he needs a pick-me-up.

"How did it go?"

"Horrible."

Ichigo frowns and steps aside to let the taller man into his small apartment. Chad sits at his usual spot on the short couch. He grabs a couple of beers from the fridge before joining him.

"You don't like him?"

"The opposite," he shakes his head and take a hearty swig of alcohol. Chad eyes him as he takes a sip from his bottle. "It was awful, Chad! Ishida was wearing this cute little scarf that I think he knitted himself—he let slip that he does stuff like that for fun sometimes. I almost had to jump on this guy who cornered him in the parking lot. But then they started _making out_ and Ishida got all pissed off. I think it was his ex."

"Is he all right?"

"Yeah, he's fine. Turns out Ishida can fucking take care of himself," Ichigo assures with impressed eyebrows. "Knocked a guy with a good four inches on him right on his ass in a blink. Then he told him off and drove away."

"You followed him."

"He lives in a really fancy apartment in the nicer part of town. His place is decorated just like his office, too. You'd think he was this really pretentious, bland sort of person but…Chad, he was listening to trip hop and drinking wine. Dancing in his kitchen and singing along with his eyes shut like he was going on a journey in his own head, you know?"

"Hmm."

"And he has this cat."

"Oh, no…"

"Yeah," Ichigo laughs. Chad knows all about his absurd weak spot for animals. It's why he wasn't surprised when Ichigo told him why he'd recently been arrested. "He was so sweet to the little fluff-ball. Talking to her and scratching her ears…"

He trails off because that same undeniable feeling comes thundering back in his chest at the memory. His hands start to shake from it. Ichigo wraps them around the thick glass of his bottle and takes a slow breath.

"What are you going to do?"

"What the hell _can _I do?"

"There might be a loophole—"

"There isn't. I spent over an hour looking for one on the internet as soon as I got back. Ishida can never date a patient, current or past, without jeopardizing his license. He'll never risk it and I wouldn't want him to." Letting heavy lids fall closed, Ichigo feels resignation settle around his shoulders like a leaden jacket. "That's assuming he'd even be interested in a freak like me in the first place."

"Ichigo, you're not—"

"Anyway, I know you didn't just stop by to hear me whine about boy-problems. Did you come to see if I'd be up for Keigo's birthday tonight?"

"Mn…" he tersely agrees.

Ichigo can tell Chad wants to give him one of his patent encouraging talks, but he doesn't think he can handle it tonight. He'd rather put it all out of his mind and pretend it's not happening. This weekend will be enough time to solidify his resolve to kill off his feelings for Ishida before their next session. Right now Ichigo wants to go out with four of his best male friends and get crazy drunk and forget all about Ishida Uryuu. So that's exactly what he does.

* * *

><p>"Oooooh," someone howls low and scandalously. "He said <em>what<em>?"

"The fuck is your problem?"

Ichigo has been in this bar countless times with his group. It's not necessarily their 'usual' but it's close. Lately another crowd has been frequenting the joint. Some guys named Aizen and Ichimaru and Tousen. The last guy mostly keeps quiet, but the other two like to start shit every now and then. This time they've decided to pick on Chad. Ichigo is not having it.

"I said wha's a big ole 'spic doin' in my fav'rite bar?" yammers Ichimaru. The only soft-spoken redneck with silver hair and skinny jeans that Ichigo has ever seen. "We don' 'ppreciate that sorta trash bein' shoved in our faces."

"You some kind of biased prick?" Ichigo yells right back at him. "You don't know the first thing about us, asshole!"

"Maybe you should think about where you are," advises Aizen.

"Think about the fact that my fist seems to want to meet your face, jackass!"

"Ichigo, stop," Keigo and Mizuiro say at the same time. They have seen what can happen when he loses his temper.

"It's okay, Ichigo," Chad anxiously tells him. "Let's go somewhere else."

"Nah, I'm not gonna be chased out of here because some ignorant dick-bags feel like they own the place."

"Haven' ya heard, kid?" Ichimaru hisses, intruding into his space. "We _do_ own tha place now. So take yer stank-ass fucktard friends and beat it, Blondie."

Blood pools heavily in his skull and Ichigo feels a familiar tug of insatiable aggression swarming up to bracket his peripheral vision. Hands curl into fists and a sinister urge swims up from within. He stops caring that his friends are worried. That he could get arrested again. That his family will be disappointed once more. Ichigo wants to put these arrogant jerks in their place and make sure they never have the balls to talk about Chad like that ever again. He wants to see their fear when they realize that they can't beat him. Wants to put eager muscles to use and _break_. Ichigo wants to shake their hold on reality to the point that they question everything they know about themselves.

Ishida's face pops into his head then. He tells Ichigo to take a deep breath. That it's okay to be angry but that he doesn't need to act on it. Reminds Ichigo to think about why he is feeling this way and what he can do to make it bearable. Months of listening to Ishida—trusting him implicitly—pays off and Ichigo's heart rate begins to normalize. Chad's hand rests on his shoulder and Ichigo turns towards it, lets his friends pull him out of this quicksand before he drowns in it. Ishida's words of sanguine approval block out the parting taunts aimed at Ichigo's back.

Outside, adrenaline tremors through his bones but he feels good. That is the first time Ichigo reached a certain line and managed not to cross it. Thanks to hard work and Ishida's guidance, he has made serious progress in conflict management. He is bolstered by empowering confidence. Ichigo shrugs and flashes his friends a reassuring smile as they pretend not to glance incredulously at him. One by one, they return it.


	7. What Was Lost, What Was Found

AN: I'm gonna go ahead and give everyone an extra heads-up that this is the chapter where most of those warnings I mentioned at the beginning are going to come in. This chapter contains semi-graphic descriptions of torture and murder. Also, Yoruichi.

* * *

><p>Ise silently hands him a post-it note from his lawyer and Uryuu doesn't bother holding back a groan. There's nothing he enjoys less than the sight of that scratchy, nearly illegible jumble of kanji first thing after a late lunch.<p>

"Shihouin-san requests your time after your final session today," she translates the scrawl for him. "Said she'll stop by before you have time to sneak out so don't even think about it."

"Of course she did," Uryuu sighs as he pockets the note. "Thank you."

"And Kurosaki-kun is here."

"Five minutes _early_?"

"Instead of late," she smirks knowingly. "Yes. He seems excited about something."

"Oh?"

The thought makes Uryuu grin. He always likes seeing his patients in a lighter mood, but Kurosaki in particular brightens nicely with elevated mood. This might be a good day to bring out that suggestion he's had on the back-burner for a while. As usual, he stands from his desk and moves to his grandfather's armchair when Kurosaki enters his office.

"Hello, Kurosa—"

"Hey, Ishida!" he blurts as soon as he sweeps into the room. Kurosaki doesn't let him get to the chair but comes to stand in front of him halfway between his desk and the door. "You'll never guess what happened last Friday."

"Tell me about it," Uryuu says, getting swept up in his energy.

"I went to a bar with some friends—it was Keigo's birthday—and we ended up getting into a fight with these bigoted douchebags—because Chad's half-Mexican—and I was _this_ close to losing it. I mean, I really wanted to pound their dumb racist faces in. But I didn't. I used one of those breathing techniques you taught me and I backed off."

"Wow, that's amazing, Kurosaki." He beams and the shape of it transforms his face. Uryuu smiles back and gets a ridiculous urge to hug the man. Suddenly he feels like an awkward teenager again. "It-it sounds like you've really been applying yourself."

"Yeah, and it's all thanks to you, Ishida," he credits, reaching out to grip Uryuu's shoulders and shake him a little, brimming with enthusiasm. "I've never been able to do that. So, thanks, man."

"Y-you're welcome, Kurosaki."

This close to him, feeling the strength and warmth of those hands through a thin shirt, Uryuu's stomach somersaults over itself in bafflement. He looks into Kurosaki's grateful brown eyes bordered by his choppy orange hair and everything else fades to grey. Dimly, Uryuu realizes Kurosaki is giving him the same bemused stare.

"You've already done so much for me," Kurosaki murmurs, as if to himself.

It takes Uryuu a second to register that statement. Another to think up a response. And one more to actually vocalize it. "Of course. I'm your psychiatrist."

Those words seem to draw them back into the present. Kurosaki's arms return to his sides and Uryuu pivots to make a beeline for his armchair. Kurosaki sits across from him, eyes on the hands he folds in his lap. Uryuu clears his throat as he perches on the cushion.

"Sorry."

"No need to apologize for having pride in your achievements, Kurosaki," Uryuu dismisses, businesslike. Kurosaki opens his mouth to add something but Uryuu pointedly cuts him off. "Now, if you're amenable, I know I've brought this up before and you didn't seem keen on the idea but I really believe it can be extremely beneficial to you. How do you feel about trying hypnotherapy?"

"…Okay."

Kurosaki shrugs and picks at a hole in the knee of his dark jeans. All previous energy has been depleted and Uryuu wonders if his reaction to Kurosaki's news was somehow insufficient. Had he been expecting more of a celebration? Uryuu has a tendency to miss out on those kinds of social cues from time to time.

"I won't force y—"

"No, it's okay. I want to try it."

"If you're sure…"

At length, Kurosaki looks up from his idle task and meets his eyes. "I'm sure."

"All right. Be aware that this may not even work. Some are more susceptible to hypnotic induction than others." Uryuu doesn't add that the more trust shared between participants also increases the strength of the trance. Adopting a slower cadence and a softer tone, he starts to slip into the role. "I'm going to perform a brief test exercise before we begin. Are you ready?"

"Yeah."

"Close your eyes, Kurosaki." Without hesitation, he obeys. "Place your hands palms-down on your knees. Relax your body; find a comfortable position and take a deep breath. Release. Take another breath, inhale as long as you can. Good. Slowly let it out. Now, I want you to imagine your right hand is feeling very light. The pull of gravity is lifting from that hand. Its force is pushing on your left instead. Your left hand is feeling heavier with each passing second—"

Uryuu stops because it has already worked. Without conscious effort, Kurosaki has steadily raised his right hand off his leg so that it floats mid-way between his chin and his knee. This indicates that Kurosaki is highly susceptible to hypnotic suggestion at this time. Surprised, Uryuu reigns in his excitement and instructs Kurosaki to lower his hand.

"What do you mean 'lower my—" He blinks open to see his limb adjusted without his knowledge. "Oh."

"If you're uncomfortable with this we can move on to something else."

"No, it's," Kurosaki snorts a startled laugh and looks at Uryuu, "It's really cool. Let's keep going."

So Uryuu has him remove his shoes and lie face-up on the long sofa. It is just long enough to fit Kurosaki's tall frame. He guides him through a breathing exercise. Tells him to alternate tensing all of his muscles at once and then relaxing them at intervals. Keep breathing, eyes closed, and follow the sound of Uryuu's voice. For Kurosaki's subconscious' sake, he reminds him that this is voluntary, that Kurosaki agreed to be hypnotized, and that he is in a safe place.

Nearly whispering now, Uryuu kneels beside the arm rest above Kurosaki's head and informs him that he is becoming sleepier with each breath. That Uryuu will start counting back from one hundred and each number closer to zero will push him closer to a state very close to REM sleep. He starts counting at a crawling pace, tapping gently to each number as he speaks in a natural rhythm. Every ten or so numbers, he instructs a deeper state of relaxation. By the time he gets to fifty, Kurosaki's chest rises deeply and sinks gradually with a tranquil pace. When he murmurs twenty, no stress is evident; even the permanent perturbed crease between his eyebrows vanishes. Zero is uttered in perfect time with the last of an exhale.

Then Uryuu really begins. He tells Kurosaki to imagine himself on a warm, fluffy cloud. It's a cliché but it's actually one of the easiest ways to reach a suggestive state. This cloud keeps him safe and free of any earthly concerns. Here, nothing can touch him. Reminds him that he can speak but that he will not wake up until Uryuu tells him to do so.

"Can you hear me, Kurosaki?" The man's mouth twitches but he remains silent. Uryuu tries again with a slight alteration. "Can you hear me, Ichigo?"

"Yeah," he hazily responds after a moment's hesitation.

Uryuu retreats to his chair and pulls out his clipboard. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay."

"Is there anything in particular you would like to discuss right now?"

Kurosaki doesn't answer but a couple of his facial muscles twitch to indicate bleary thought. Uryuu wonders if he might be in too deep a trance. Then Kurosaki takes a long breath ending on a low hum.

"There's something I've been wanting to tell you…"

"You can tell me now, Ichigo," Uryuu promises, keeping with the given name which seems to reach him easier. "Whatever it is, you can tell me and you won't remember doing so when you awaken."

"It's hard to talk about."

"Yes. It's easier like this, isn't it, Ichigo?"

"Yeah." After a pause, he frowns lightly and mutters barely audibly, "It's about my mom."

Uryuu's breath catches. This is better than he'd hoped. To get Kurosaki to talk about his mother's death is a major milestone. And after only a few months of treatment, too. Reaching this point is something Uryuu was prepared to work at for much longer.

"Kurosaki Masaki."

"Mom…She was…" Leaning forward, Uryuu notes the sluggish shift of emotions working their way across Kurosaki's sleep-slackened features. Pain, sorrow, frustration. Determination. Then nothing. He just goes blank, with a slight stoic pinch to his mouth. Uryuu is about to ask if he would like to stop for the day when Kurosaki's voice returns strong and unwavering. "Ichigo was twelve years old when he was forced to watch his mother being murdered in front of him."

Startled by the sudden switch, Uryuu thinks he has uncovered a new alter. Unlike the frivolous Shirosaki, this one is serious-business. Unlike the sullen alter he encountered once after stressing Kurosaki too far, this one seems emotionally distant and possibly warrior-esque. There is neither mischief nor despair in his tone.

"You are not Ichigo?"

"I am Zangetsu. I am the one Ichigo turns to when he cannot accomplish what must be done through other means."

"You mean when he can't use violence or sheer perseverance?"

"When he must stand and fight for what is necessary."

"Will you tell me about Masaki?"

"Yes. I will tell you so that Ichigo may begin to accept her death, at long last." Kurosaki's alter speaks almost in monotone. His body language is very tense and minimal. Uryuu has trouble detecting whether that is due to stress or if that is simply Zangetsu's tendency. "Masaki was walking him home from a karate class when they came across a young woman standing too close to a broad river. She appeared to lose balance and fall toward the swollen, rushing waters. Ichigo acted instinctively to help her but it was too late. He reached her just as she flew from his limited grasp.

"That is when Ichigo noticed a man in a thick cloak standing under the bridge. He was wearing a rain-soaked bone-white mask. He was holding a blood-streaked foot-long knife. Ichigo's mother came rushing to him and did not see the man. Her cry as she was stabbed through the spine was the last sound she ever made to him."

"My gods," Uryuu chokes. Hands clenched anxiously over the armrests, his clipboard is forgotten between the cushion and the chair's frame. He had heard she was murdered, but to have witnessed something so gruesome at that age…

"She fell at his feet, paralyzed and going into shock." Zangetsu soberly continues. "The wound was small and she bled slowly. In that time, Ichigo was caught and restrained. Left to watch as the cloaked man dragged his mother under the bridge and cut into her for over an hour. Ichigo cried out but no one heard. No one came for them. And when Masaki finally passed away, Ichigo felt relief."

"Stop—please stop," he begs because Uryuu thinks he is going to be sick. He needs to hear this, needs to understand, but he doesn't know if he is strong enough. "I can't—"

"You will listen!" the alter snaps. "You must be the one to hear it so that Ichigo may heal."

Uryuu takes a ragged breath and nods, though the man can't see it. With a sip of air resembling a sob, he says, "Yes."

"Ichigo was relieved that his mother's pain had ended but he knew it meant his was only beginning. The killer turned to him and Ichigo was too terrified to scream any more. The man with the bone-white mask dripped red and grey over him as he laughed, savoring Ichigo's fear. His mother's yet-warm blood mixed with his very tears and the man dragged a finger through it to taste.

"He sliced through Ichigo's yellow rain jacket and his white shirt. Seeing the knife being raised, Ichigo begged. But the man only laughed at him. He made shallow cuts across Ichigo's torso at first. Each one longer than the last. Ichigo cried out with each one but he no longer hoped for rescue. He thought of his mother's agonized face—the horror he had seen there—and Ichigo prayed for death."

"_Ichigo_," Uryuu gasps. He falls to his knees beside his prone friend, heart breaking for him. Uryuu has never heard such a horrifying tale, especially first-hand like this. Grasping Kurosaki's limp hand, he squeezes reassuringly and feels a hint of the pressure returned. "Ichigo."

"But he was not forsaken. A tall foreigner wearing a green hat and wooden sandals heard his shouts. He saved Ichigo that day, even though the killer escaped. That foreigner later became a mentor to Ichigo. Urahara taught us many things about battle and honor."

"Thank you for telling me," Uryuu barely manages to say. He looks into Kurosaki's calm face and thinks of the damage his mind has suffered. The limitations he has had to overcome simply to function, to _survive_. "I'm sorry."

"You will be the one to heal Ichigo," Zangetsu repeats before falling silent for good.

Uryuu takes several minutes to collect himself. The hand he still holds serves to ground him and soon he has recovered enough to bring Kurosaki back to a conscious state. He drags himself back to his chair and fishes out his clipboard, straightens his clothes and his hair. Finally, Uryuu announces the final count to bring Kurosaki to full alertness. The man wakes with a frown and sits up almost hesitantly. Kurosaki rubs at his eyes and turns to Uryuu with a questioning look.

"How are you feeling?"

He intends it to come out confident and serene as usual, but it sounds more like Uryuu just finished choking on a rock. Kurosaki narrows his eyes and tilts his head.

"Did…did it work?"

"Yes."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"Yes, for the most part."

"Are you all right, Ishida?" He swings his legs to the floor and leans in to squint at Uryuu's faintly trembling form. "You look like you're gonna be sick."

"I'm fine, Kurosaki. Thank you."

"I didn't say anything…weird, did I?" Uryuu attempts to shake his head and mean it. What ends up happening is a jerky twitch of his neck and a light wince. "Oh, fuck. What did I say, Ishida?"

"You told me about your mother," he mumbles in a small voice. "I asked you about her."

Kurosaki's eyes glaze over in unadulterated astonishment. For a long moment he is too stunned to move. Then his face clouds over with rage. Rather than attack Uryuu, as he rightly should, Kurosaki stands and strides to the door. Uryuu stumbles over himself in his haste to reach it first.

"Move, Ishida."

"Kurosaki, wait a second. Don't leave like this. Let's talk—"

"I'm sick of talking to you," he snaps. "Move!"

Uryuu mutely shakes his head, pressing against the door when Kurosaki invades his space to reach for it. This is childish. He knows it's incredibly childish. But he can't bear the thought of Kurosaki leaving in such a negative mood because of Uryuu. Because he was too ambitious and pushed too far. There's no telling what could happen to Kurosaki in this level of confusion and anger and pain. Uryuu must calm him down before he leaves this office. A sole idea comes to mind.

"L-let me tell you about my grandfather," he half-pleads, desperate. "You told me your secret. Let me tell you mine."

Halting, Kurosaki seems to consider this. He lowers the hand grasping the door handle and takes a step back. Uryuu takes a relieved breath and gestures towards their seats. Grudgingly, Kurosaki obliges the request. Though he throws Uryuu for a loop when he takes the armchair.

"We're role-reversing, right?" Kurosaki asks by way of explanation. "That means I get the shrink-chair."

Under different circumstances, he might consider that amusing. As it stands, Uryuu sits and fights the urge to rest his forehead on the heel of his hand. Then he rips off the band-aid.

"I lost my grandfather when I was a small child." Kurosaki's dark amusement flees his shocked visage. He stays still and quiet as Uryuu relates the story as quickly as possible. "I stayed with him more often than with my own father after my mother passed away. We were at the park late one night because I didn't want to leave. I kept saying, 'Just a little more time, Grandfather,' and he would smile and nod. 'Okay, Uryuu, but then we have to go.'

"Our neighborhood wasn't the nicest then and we occasionally heard about muggings in the area. I'm sure he thought what anyone would: who would mug an old man and his grandson? But sure enough there was a group of thugs on our way home that night."

Pausing to clench his jaw against the rush of sadness this recollection inevitably causes, Uryuu takes steadying breaths. Squeezes his eyes shut for a short moment.

"You don't have to tell me," Kurosaki says much too gently.

"No, I want to."

"Ishida…"

"My grandfather heard them before they saw us. He told me to hide behind a trash can across the street. Made me promise not to move until he called to me. I didn't want to go but he made me swear. I saw them come around the corner and heard the shouting as they demanded his valuables. He offered it willingly but…his money wasn't enough. They wanted his life.

"I watched them pull out weapons and start hitting my grandfather. He begged them to stop but they didn't care. They were probably stoned out of their minds. The four of them didn't quit beating him when he fell to the ground. They waited until he stopped moving. Then they took his possessions and walked away."

"Shit, Ishida," Kurosaki hisses because he never suspected something like this could be lurking in Uryuu's past. No one could have.

"The body wasn't found right away. I watched the blood spreading out in a wide pool, the color turning black over a period of hours. I wanted to go to him but I was too afraid to move. I felt such shame that I had hidden while they attacked him."

"It wasn't your fault! You have to know that!"

"That doesn't change the fact that I left him there," Uryuu's voice cracks as his control slips. "I let his body go stiff and cold in the street because I couldn't face him. And when the police finally showed up and found me, they dragged me over to him and he was…unrecognizable. My father never said it aloud but I knew even then that he blamed me for everything."

"What? How could a little kid have done _anything_?" he demands with righteous anger for Uryuu's sake. "What kind of parent puts that on their son?"

"You asked once why I don't speak with him anymore," Uryuu wryly reminds him. "That's one reason of many."

"How do you do it?"

"Do what?" he has to ask, thrown by the topic change.

"You've been through just about as much bullshit as I have and you're fine. Better than fine—you're successful. Helping other people fight their demons because you already kicked yours out of the picture."

"My demons are still much more insidious than they seem, Kurosaki. I promise you that."

* * *

><p>For a hard-ass lawyer, Shihouin Yoruichi is a bit of a trickster. She slinks into Uryuu's office wearing a fitted pinstripe pantsuit and a Cheshire grin, flicking him in the forehead as a greeting. He blinks at the treatment. Otherwise, he is too drained to present much of a reaction. Uryuu has been brooding about his earlier appointment with Kurosaki all day and he still hasn't been able to parse it. This is the landmark case. The one you get maybe twice in your career, the one you pour all of yourself into in the hopes of making a dent in this person's life. But Uryuu isn't sure all of himself is going to be nearly enough.<p>

"Long time no see, Uryuu!"

"Hello, Yoruichi-san."

"What's with this sullen, 'hello, Yoruichi-san'?" she complains, irritated at his lifeless demeanor. "Is that how you greet an old friend?"

"Sorry. It's been a very long day."

"Rough case, huh?"

"You have no idea."

Not for the first time, Uryuu resents the fact that he can't discuss his patients even with his lawyer, who is also bound by confidentiality contracts. If she wouldn't kill him for even thinking about it, Uryuu would tell her the whole story in a heartbeat. As it is, all he can do is make vague allusions to tangential issues.

"Well, I came by to discuss some new bylaws going into affect next fiscal year," Yoruichi explains, sinking into the stiff seat opposite his desk. "But it seems like you might need some counseling of your own, counselor."

"It's a trauma case." When she raises an eyebrow, he adds, "It's bad."

"Sounds like you might be getting a little too invested, Uryuu," she warns with her tone. Amber eyes sharpen on his guilty face and she scowls. "Didn't we talk about you keeping any excessive compassion out of your practice?"

"Of course, but this person is—"

"Ah—nope! I don't want to hear another word. You need to lock it up _right now_ or so help me, kid…"

"I _know_."

His evident misery softens her ire somewhat. She lowers the accusatory finger and settles for a medium glare. Even that evaporates when he folds his face into his palms and sighs with his whole body.

"It's really that serious?"

"Yes. It is."

"Tell me about it."

"But—"

"Just this once, Uryuu." Her stern expression can be pretty scary when she puts her mind to it. "I'll give you a pass this one time and never again. Tell me so I can help you out because I've never seen you like this. But this conversation never happened. Got it?"

Uryuu considers refusing. His scruples are probably stronger than hers, in retrospect. Yoruichi is the type of person to do things like peek in the locker room and prank people who take themselves too seriously. But if there is one person he trusts with legal obligations, it is her. She is the best in this business for liability counsel.

Plus, after today's session with Kurosaki, Uryuu is sure he is crossing some minor boundaries with his own conduct towards the man. Under no circumstance is physical contact encouraged between doctor and client; Uryuu had _held his hand_ and been close to tears for him. Not to mention Kurosaki's hands comfortably holding his shoulders at the beginning. There's no way that could be construed as a safe psychiatric relationship. As much as he would like to say it was only the story that influenced him to react that way.

So he tells Yoruichi with as few details as possible while still showing the whole picture. From the physical attraction aspects to the natural sense of camaraderie and friendship. His increasing resolve to cure Kurosaki and ease his mental instabilities. The inappropriate happiness he feels twice a week when he has the man in his office. Elation at the spectacular progress they have made together. The fact that he thinks of Kurosaki outside of work much more often than is reasonable.

"Are you _fucking_ kidding me, Uryuu!?" She takes it fairly well, considering. "You let it get this bad and you didn't call me? I should really slap you around for this, you know!"

"I had it under control," he stubbornly insists. "Until today. I just—"

"Developing a big fat crush on your hot DID patient is not having anything 'under control', let's get that straight right now." Yoruichi stands to pace around his office and gesticulate wildly in her fury. She throws off her jacket to reveal a gold sleeveless top underneath. The tribal butterfly tattoo on her arm flutters erratically with her movements. "For you to tell him about your grandfather, you must be so far off the deep end it's not even funny. Not only that but it sounds as though he probably wants you, too."

"Why would—"

"You said he was sullen and moody at first but now he's practically chatty," she lists on manicured fingers as she continues to wear holes in the floor. "That he's never been interested in retaining a therapist before you, and that he's bisexual. Ergo—you being you, Uryuu—you're probably irresistible to this poor sap."

"I attributed the first two points to my methods, rather than my personality. And as far as Kurosaki being bisexual, that doesn't mean—"

"Oh, please," Yoruichi stops on a dime in four-inch heels to roll her eyes at him. "If you weren't gay _I_ would've gone after your pretty little ass by now. There is zero chance he isn't attracted to you."

Annoyed at being interrupted over and over, Uryuu keeps his mouth shut and argues with his expression.

When she suddenly plops into the chair and leans forward to begin instructing him in reparations, his mind kind of boggles. Yoruichi tells him he has to transfer Kurosaki to a new psychiatrist immediately. That he needs to play it cool with this guy and convince him that someone like Ukitake is better qualified for this kind of case. She thinks Uryuu should also probably apologize without admitting to anything specific.

Uryuu's stomach clenches at the mere thought of never seeing Kurosaki again. On the other hand, she may actually be right. Ukitake is an excellent psychiatrist with several decades of experience working with and curing DID cases. Maybe Kurosaki would be better off with his colleague.

Yet, Zangetsu's firm assertion that Uryuu is the only one who can truly repair Kurosaki's fragmented psyche resonates within him. He considers the damage abandonment could create in such a critical time, the repercussions such a change could have later. Yoruichi is one hundred percent correct about one thing, though. Uryuu needs to get it together and keep his personal feelings in check no matter what he decides.

"Thank you, Yoruichi-san. I will take your advice into consideration when making any decisions on this subject."

With a dubious stare, she shrugs and changes the topic.


	8. Crossing All the Right Lines

Autumn is burning everywhere. Bright yellows, rich reds, dull golds, and warm browns decorate the trees, streets, and wind. Ichigo takes a deep breath of sweet decay and smiles a little to himself. He's thinking it's been far too long since he was in a good enough mood to enjoy something as simple as nature.

On the way home from his appointment with Ishida, he figures he should still be fuming. The one topic he made plain was off limits dragged out of him when he least expected it…Ishida had probably planned the whole thing, too. Though, if Ichigo is honest there was no other way Ishida would've ever heard the whole story from him. However much Ichigo wanted him to know, he could never bring himself to breach that horror again. Now that it is finally out he is relieved.

Not only that, but Ishida went so far to make amends by sharing his own story. Ichigo is still marveling at the idea that someone as put-together as Ishida could have endured something as dark as a murder and stay sane. He has Ichigo over a fucking barrel! Maybe he should feel like a loser by comparison but he doesn't. Ishida serves as an inspiration, a goal. Something to strive towards when all Ichigo had before was a tenuous basket of what he wanted to get rid of. Now he's thinking in terms of what he wants to _achieve _and for the first time in his life, he feels confident in the ability to get there.

Ichigo takes a detour on a whim. Down a leaf-strewn set of streets to a comfy little duplex tucked into a cul-de-sac, he parks and runs up the narrow steps to knock soundly on the green door. Karin answers, perplexed frown twisting into a surprised grin on sight.

"Ichigo!" she cries, leaning forward into a tight hug. He grins into the warm crook of her neck. "What're you doing here? I wasn't expecting to see you until this weekend."

"Just thought I'd stop by."

She leads him inside, telling him her wife is still at work for another hour. They catch up while she pours juice for them both and takes him into the living room. Karin's border collie crawls into Ichigo's lap as soon as he sits down. He happily pets the friendly dog.

"So, what have you been up to? Yuzu told me she was bugging you about domestic things recently."

"Yeah. I was glad she called," he says through the fringe of a wagging tail. "The usual stuff, mostly. Did I tell you I'm still seeing Ishida for counseling?"

"Wow, really?" Karin's eyebrows shoot up. "How long has it been?"

"Almost four months."

"A new record!"

"Yeah, I think he's really helping me this time. None of that pill-pushing, touchy-feely crap most of 'em pull. Ishida knows what he's doing."

"Then you've been feeling better?"

More mature than Yuzu in some ways, Karin has been privy to a lot more of Ichigo's difficulties over the years. Therefore, when she asks how he's feeling, she's really asking whether he's been having the usual bouts of dysphoria, black-outs, or aggressive urges. She's been there to talk him out of a lot of stupid shit like that.

"Definitely. Actually, I've never been so optimistic. Today I told him—today I was able to talk about Mom."

Tears begin to pool in the corners of her eyes. Ichigo opens his mouth to reassure her but then she falls into his lap, tangled up with the dog as she clings to him. He holds her on instinct.

"Ichi-nii…" she sniffles into his shirt. "I'm so glad."

To anyone else it would seem melodramatic, but Ichigo knows how much his condition has hurt his sisters. All those years spent worrying that they would lose their big brother to something they didn't know how to fight. Their stress when he would disappear for days at a time. Fear when they heard he'd been arrested again. Ichigo has always understood this about them. It's why he never had the heart to admit he had almost tried to jump off the school roof one day. He's still not sure why he didn't do it—he had lost time then, too—but he is so grateful that he didn't. For their sake if not always his own.

Watching Karin fight off tears with the help of her concerned pup, Ichigo sends another psychic wave of thanks to Ishida for helping to make her joy possible.

* * *

><p>"I was wondering how you might feel about…transferring to a colleague of mine, Kurosaki."<p>

"What?"

"This is something I've been contemplating for a while and I believe it could be very beneficial for you."

Dropping a bomb like this halfway through the session, Ishida effectively throws him off-kilter. It's been a few weeks since he first mentioned his mother's death and they've been primarily working on that since. Ichigo has been amazed at his own progress on the subject. Ishida has skillfully taken him from a place where he was incapable of even thinking about it to the point that he willingly discusses the details of emotions he felt at the time. It's been incredibly productive and cathartic, so why would Ishida want to get rid of him now?

"I don't understand," he says slowly. "Why can't I keep seeing you?"

"Ukitake-sensei specializes in treating individuals with similar conditions. He has a wealth of experience and knowledge that I have yet to gain."

Ichigo's world begins to rotate jarringly. The very notion of never talking with Ishida like this again is enough to set him sweating in panic. It's akin to being told you have to give up your best friend and your best future at the same time. Ichigo _knows _he can't be fixed by anyone but Ishida. Judging by the dishonest cues his psychiatrist can't quite manage to hide, he knows it too. There must be another factor to this.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No," Ishida looks alarmed, shaking his head too quickly. "No, of course not, Kurosaki. Nothing like that."

"Then why?" Ichigo adamantly repeats. "At least show me enough respect to tell me the real reason—not 'I can't help you anymore.' We both know that's a lie."

Falling silent, Ishida guiltily avoids his gaze. Fidgets with his pen. Pushes his hair behind an ear. He is about to ask if it's because Ichigo has a stupid crush on him—it's probably obvious to someone like Ishida anyway—when they are interrupted by a loud knock on the door. Then Ishida's blue-haired ex flings it open. He jumps up with a gasp of the intruder's weird name.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demands, instantly irate. "Leave. _Now_."

"Nope."

"Hey, Ishida told you to go, man," Ichigo calmly reiterates as he stands. He infuses his expression with a stony threat. "You should listen to him."

Grimmjaw laughs and Ishida politely instructs Ichigo to stay out of it. He mutters something indistinct to the man, too low for Ichigo to hear.

"'Cause I was feelin' an itch only you can scratch, Baby," comes the reply. "This's what happens when ya try to ignore me."

Time slows as the man's thick arms rise to encircle Ishida and pull him close. Ichigo is already on edge about being abandoned by a man he likes even more now than even just last week. He doesn't think he can keep it together if they start making out in front of him right now.

"You're unbelievable. Idiot! What part of your drug-addled brain thought this is a good way to get what you want?"

"Well, what else do I need to do?" he asks with all the petulance of a child. Ishida roughly dislodges the embrace and holds a hand to Grimmjaw's chest to keep him at a distance. "I've tried apologizing a dozen times. I've _begged_. I've even thrown out my stash for you!"

"You're detoxing," Ishida tonelessly states as if it's an explanation. "That's good for you, Jack, but it's not good enough for me. You crossed a line. Nothing you do now or in the future can change that."

"Uugggh! Why are you such a fucking drama queen!?" Grimmjaw rolls his eyes and throws his arms into the air. Ichigo tenses when the man starts prowling around the small space between desk and door. "One time I tricked you into dropping acid and suddenly I'm unforgiveable?"

"Have you forgotten what happened after?" Ishida's cold voice wavers from the strain of containment. Ichigo can see it in the way that he goes unnaturally still but for a faint vibration, like a resonating violin string. "How you invited two of your friends over and coaxed me into the bedroom?"

Ichigo steps forward, stopped only by Ishida's arm barred across his chest. He watches the dismissal in Grimmjaw's apathetic face. If Ishida is implying what he thinks he is, Ichigo isn't going to be able to hold back. Already he can feel an ominous rumbling in the depths of his subconscious. An instinctive reaction to a threat aimed at a very important person.

"Tch. It's not like we did anything you didn't like."

"No, I've always secretly wanted to be roofied and coerced into a foursome with two other men I've never met," Ishida snidely quips. "What was I thinking? Of course I'll take you back."

"What?" Ichigo snaps, glancing from Grimmjaw to Ishida and back. "You're saying this guy—"

"Who asked ya, punk?" Grimmjaw stops pacing to turn and sneer at Ichigo. "Why dontcha perch yer sorry ass on the couch like a good lil' psycho and stay out of it?"

"Don't talk to my client that way!" Ishida snaps harshly enough to broker a few seconds of silence between them.

"Is he the reason you won't take me back?"

"Do you have a listening problem, man?" Verging on enraged, Ichigo pushes past Ishida to get in the guy's face. "Ishida says he doesn't want an abusive drug-addict for a boyfriend. Get it through your head, jackass!"

"You think you know what he wants, kid? Uryuu's out of your league—he's out of your fucking _universe_. He's got a bad habit of denying himself what he knows he needs." Grimmjaw leans in and flares his eyes as he grins wide as a skull.

"That's why he needs me to force him sometimes."

"Motherfucker!" Ichigo grabs two fistfuls of his jacket and shoves him against the nearest object. Channeling someone far fiercer than himself, he growls, "If you ever think of touching Ishida again, I swear I will _end you_."

"Kurosaki!" shouts Ishida, pulling them apart and stepping between them. "Step back. Please."

Seeing clear worry creasing Ishida's brow, Ichigo does as requested, trying to moderate his breathing without much success. He's too focused on the way Grimmjaw continues to smile as if he's loving every second of this. Smug and arrogant like he already knows Ishida getting back with him is a matter of time. Ichigo begins to imagine what their relationship must have been like, the shit Ishida had to deal with before he found the resolution to ditch this loser.

The mere notion that he could have hurt Ishida…His heart is thundering in his chest. Fists tightly balled at his hips. Perspiration dotting his forehead. Jaw clenched hard enough to ache. All he wants to do is destroy the threat in front of him.

"The police are almost here, Ishida-sensei," Nanao critically announces from down the hall.

"You called the cops on me!?"

"I have a restraining order, you _imbecile_."

They continue bickering briefly but Ichigo doesn't hear another word. A stone wall is sliding, shoving him out of the room and into a place so silent and dark he's not sure he'll ever dig his way back out.

* * *

><p>Shirosaki blinks.<p>

Waiting for the usual quaking of his body to recede, he enjoys the fading buzz of chemical danger greeting his arrival. He knows Ichigo only ever lets him take over when he's too shaken to handle the situation on his own. The jarring aspect of it ceased to bother Shirosaki a long time ago. Still, it can be annoying when he wakes up rough like this without memory of recent events. It makes him want to cause a bit of mayhem.

Ichigo's doctor is arguing with some wannabe-rocker with too much eye makeup and not enough bruises. He considers joining the fun but then the pair of them sweep from the room in a hurry. Shirosaki doesn't have to wait long before Ishida comes back alone. The doctor begins apologizing as he closes the door and comes to stand before him. Ishida halts mid-word as their eyes finally meet. Shirosaki smirks.

"Long time no see, Doc."

"Shirosaki."

"Clever man," he purrs. Feeling gracious, Shirosaki sits and gestures for Ishida to follow suit. He does. "So. Never pegged ya for chasin' the rebellious type. That guy's yer ex, right? What'd you call 'im…Grimmjaw?"

"Y-yes, he is." Ishida breathes out a shaky exhale and shifts in his seat. "Though that is a nickname. His real name is Jack Grimm. I met him a year ago when he was an aspiring musician and young father, separated from the mother of their child. She was nice enough to grant him visitation rights. But when his infant daughter died last spring, Jack battled his misery with drugs and alcohol. He became a different man."

"Y'didn' try to help 'im?"

"Of course I did!"

"Then ya failed." He watches Ishida cycle through offense, guilt, and then resigned agreement. Shirosaki feels an uncomfortable twinge when he mutely nods. "Who cares? Shit happens. It ain't your problem anymore."

Surprised eyes rise to lock onto him. The vulnerable set of Ishida's shoulders is doing something strange to his stomach, his throat. Shirosaki scowls. If he wanted to feel like a sappy teenage girl, he'd fucking kill himself. And he wouldn't let that Zangetsu bastard stop him and Tensa next time, either.

Instead, he focuses on a desire that he and Ichigo feel whenever they are in proximity to this person. A roiling heat like magma just beneath a thin layer of rock. Pressure building with each minute spent with him. Shirosaki can't comprehend how Ichigo resists it week after week. Especially when Ichigo has thought so often of Ishida in the late hours of the night when he is warm and relaxed and just the right amount of sleepy. Shirosaki watches those scenes playing out in Ichigo's mind theatre and wants it just as much. Craves it every time he sees those slanting blue eyes dragging over him.

"Do you remember what just happened?" Shirosaki doesn't answer but Ishida continues anyway. "Even if it wasn't 'you', thanks for…standing up for me. It's always difficult dealing with him after everything. No one has ever really done that for me before. So, thank you, Shirosaki."

"No problem, Doc." Actually, he doesn't recall anything from the past two days but he can take a guess. Ichigo has to be everyone's savior, after all. Laughing, he says, "I'll pass it along to King next time I see him."

The inside joke gets him a ghost of a smile from Ishida, who still looks upset. Shirosaki doesn't like the fact that some knucklehead put Ichigo's doctor in a bad mood. If anyone's going to mess with their shrink, it's Shirosaki! He's pissed. Wants to track down that blue-haired idiot and make him bleed just for the hell of it. Yet, something is keeping him from storming out of the office to do it.

Shirosaki thinks it has something to do with seeing the stern doctor gone soft as a lamb for once. All uncertain and off-guard like startled prey. Only Shirosaki doesn't want to rip into him, doesn't want to destroy Ishida so much as he wants to _consume_ him. The pretty flush receding from his cheeks too closely resembles excitement. Hair slightly mussed and breathing accelerated. Shirosaki gazes straight at him and licks his lips.

Blunt fingernails curl and press into the leather under him. His breathing picks up a notch and Shirosaki's mouth pulls into a lopsided smirk. Ishida is still watching him, analyzing like a good little brain doctor. Bet he can guess what's going on in his brain right now. Ishida keeps his mouth shut, though. Doesn't tell him to calm down. Doesn't ask him to leave. Ishida just sits there and waits for it. So Shirosaki unhurriedly unfolds his frame, takes two deliberate steps forward, and leans in to brace his hands against Ishida's armrests.

"What are you doing, Shirosaki?" he mutters into the minuscule gap between them. His expression is almost too tranquil. Shirosaki wants to make artistic additions.

"What Ichigo is too afraid to do to you."

Shirosaki snatches his glasses away, grabs a fistful of sleek hair, and starts sucking face. He feels Ishida's quick inhale. A moment of hesitation. Then the man's mouth parts a fraction and Shirosaki groans as he pushes his tongue inside. Sweeping into hot-wet-soft and Ishida's tongue meets his with matched enthusiasm. His entire body burns with the significance of this acquiescence. One of Ishida's slender hands comes to rest over the one propping him up and Shirosaki takes it as invitation, scooting forward to perch right in the doctor's waiting lap.

His fingers release the dark locks to smooth down the back of his neck. Push into the stiff collar of his dress shirt and trace teasingly there. The palm of his free hand leaves the armrest and grips a firm shoulder instead. He slowly moves it down to pop open the first three clasps of the shirt, gaining access to a surprisingly well-defined chest. Shirosaki grazes over a bare nipple as he sinks a sharp canine into Ishida's plump lower lip. This wins him a strangled moan. The doctor's nails dig into his lower back and Shirosaki easily interprets the command for more.

Sinking down a bit lower, he positions a hand behind Ishida's spine and guides it to arch towards him. This gives him more leverage to deepen the kiss and bring their bodies closer. Heat is trapped between them, pouring past their clothes as if they weren't there. Ishida grips his biceps nearly hard enough to bruise. He nips Shirosaki, getting him back for earlier. So he drops a hand down to graze over the zip of Ishida's khaki pants.

"Ah!" he breaks the kiss to gasp. "Shirosaki, wait."

He ignores the request in favor of turning his attention to molesting Ishida's reddened ear instead. The one his fingers are always sensuously curving over, restraining his wild fringe. Shirosaki takes a tasting breath of his hair's scent as he presses his teeth into the pliable lobe and gently tugs. He continues to rhythmically outline the shape of Ishida's erection with light fingertips. Up and down…up and down. His body is squirming under Shirosaki's touches so beautifully. A series of low hums steadily ascending as sweet tension propagates inside Ishida. Shirosaki thinks he could make him come just like this, given a few more minutes.

The man's labored panting tickles the orange strands at the base of his neck. That gives him another idea. His jaws close over the side of Ishida's pale throat and squeeze. Just enough to trigger that instinctive burst of adrenaline. The bloom of blood under the surface in a temporary mold of his teeth. A keening moan trembles through Ishida and his eyes clench shut in helpless pleasure. He bites his own lip to keep quiet. Shirosaki answers him with a rough growl.

"I can make you feel so good, Ishida," he releases his hold to murmur against the shell of his tenderized ear. "Lemme blow your fuckin' mind."

"Nnh, _Kurosaki_." Shirosaki takes it like a slap. He jerks backward to frown at Ishida's dazed expression. This consideration—or maybe the reprieve—seems to allow the return of his senses. "W-we can't…we can't do this."

"We _are _doin' this, Doc."

"Then we must _stop_ doing this," Ishida decisively states. He pushes Shirosaki's hands away and snaps his shirt closed, business-like. Shirosaki hates it whenever he does this. Going from open and honest to cold and stoic. Like closing a door right before you can run inside. "Please return to the couch. Our session is almost over."

"You gonna tell Ichigo to see another shrink?"

"I am going to firmly suggest it, yes."

"You'll ruin 'im," Shirosaki spits, jumping from Ishida's lap. "_Us_. You'll destroy everythin', selfish bastard!"

Shirosaki doesn't stick around to hear the response.


	9. What Do You Need?

AN: I will be posting more often this weekend to get to a certain point in the story line because I am going out of town for the holidays. So, chapter 12 will be up by this Sunday (12/21) but chapter 13 will not be up until the Sunday after that (12/28). I _promise_ this story is **not** going on hiatus or anything like that, though: it is finished. I just won't have access to an actual computer while I'm visiting family and friends.

Also, I want to thank everyone who has posted a review. I love hearing what you all think of the story so far!

* * *

><p>"How could I be so <em>stupid<em>?"

"You're not stupid, Uryuu-kun," Orihime asserts with a gentle pat on his slumped shoulders. "You didn't mean to have feelings for him. It could happen to anyone."

He didn't tell her about Kurosaki. He didn't even tell her he'd had a bad day at work. All he did was show up at her door and she just _knew_ it was about a man. Although he did tell her about Grimmjaw's little charade that day, she guessed at most of the rest. That is the odd thing about Orihime: she seems so ditzy at first but her perception is unrivaled. As is her compassion. Yet, even Orihime can't talk him out of feeling like a moron this time. Uryuu had abandoned all reason the instant he saw Kurosaki's hurt confusion at the suggestions of a transfer. And Uryuu anticipated that but the reality was so much more difficult than he imagined. Analyzing every plausible argument so he could have a ready rebuttal for each was useless. It all came down to the way Uryuu's chest had tightened at the desolate look in Kurosaki's eyes.

Add that to Grimmjaw's showing up to cause trouble. That hadn't been as trying by comparison; Uryuu's feelings for his ex have long since dwindled. If anything, he had been enraged by the fact that he interrupted a very important conversation and then threw him off by forcing him to recall an unpleasant event. Plus, something about the intrusion was enough to cause a switch in Kurosaki's personality roulette.

"When he kissed me, I knew I was supposed to push him away," he grumbles, head in his hands. "I knew it was wrong for so many reasons but I…"

Orihime drapes an arm across his back in a half-hug. She combs through his ruffled hair and shushes him like the mother she will one day become.

"We can't always choose who we like."

"No, but we can choose how we behave about it. 'I will come for the benefit of the sick remaining free of all intentional injustice, of all mischief, and _in particular _of sexual relations with both female and male persons'," Uryuu recites part of the psychiatric oath from memory. He raises his face to emphasize the gravity of his guilt. "My patient is sick and I am meant to be healing him! Not taking advantage of his trust and malleability."

"But you said _he _kissed _you_," Orihime reminds him. "It's not like you forced him into anything."

No, Uryuu could almost go so far as to say he was forced by Shirosaki, but that would be inaccurate. Shirosaki was rough but not aggressive. Intent but not without consideration. He had even paused to seek a form of permission before going further. Uryuu didn't mind the biting and tugging—those were aspects of his physical relationship with Grimmjaw that he had appreciated. Neither did he mind the aura of dominance, knowing he could easily subvert it if he wished. The fact remains, though, that in that situation Uryuu was the mentor and Kurosaki the disciple of sorts. He had abused his power by allowing the transgression. Better psychiatrists have lost their licenses over similar incidents.

He is reaching for his phone to call Yoruichi and confess everything when Orihime snatches it away, guessing his intention. She stuffs it into a plush nest of colorful throw pillows at one end of her couch.

"I have to call my lawyer, Orihime. I need to make amends—"

"You didn't hurt anyone!" They both pause at her volume; Orihime almost never shouts at anyone. Shooting him an apologetic glance, she continues with a normal tone. "You didn't hurt each other, right? You just wanted to show how much you care for each other. How could that be bad?"

"He's not in a state of mind to know what he wants," Uryuu tries to explain without giving any extra details about Kurosaki. "His interest in me could be a form of transference—shifting feelings from one person to another. I am a source of enlightenment, guidance, and catharsis for many of my patients. Feelings of gratitude and relief can be misinterpreted, warped into the shape of attraction or even adoration."

"How do you know he doesn't just like you because you're super smart, loyal, creative, sincere, and the sweetest man ever?" she lists on small fingers. "You shouldn't assume it's fake or 'transferred' or whatever. What if he's your soul mate?"

Uryuu scoffs at the exaggerated phrase, earning a soft glare. She has a good point, though. There's no way to know for sure without having a very serious talk with Kurosaki. Because Shirosaki was in control when it happened, however, Uryuu would have to elucidate not only his inappropriate feelings for Kurosaki but also the diagnosis he has been trying to keep from addressing prematurely. He has been hoping that the man would come to notice his alters more naturally than that.

There was also the cryptic admission by Shirosaki that 'sometimes he knows, sometimes he doesn't'. This implies a persistent dichotomy within Kurosaki's awareness. A simultaneous recognition and refutation in regards to his mental wellbeing. Until now, Uryuu has been hesitant to strong-arm Kurosaki into facing his largest barrier to full health in the hopes that, like discussing it's source—Kurosaki's mother—he could come to understand the affliction in a gentler fashion.

"Still, these rules exist for good reason—"

"I don't think it's fair."

"What do you mean?"

Orihime puts on her serious face and says, "It's not fair to him, deciding all this on your own. Whether or not he can understand his own feelings. Whether or not he gets a say in anything. Is he so ill that he can't even do that much?"

"Not necessarily…"

"Do you think he really couldn't tell the difference between true and false affection if he seriously considered it?"

He thinks about that before answering. If Uryuu were to ask the Kurosaki who walked into his office angry and confrontational several months ago, he would say no. That man would probably not be capable of such a reasoning level. But Kurosaki has made massive strides in repairing his mind and Uryuu can't honestly say he has any such limitations now. Of course, there are still several issues to work on. Ideally, he would see Kurosaki's alters reintegrated into a cohesive personality before he could call him cured. They are still a ways from that ultimate goal but, as far as how it affects his logical ability…

"No. Kurosaki is more than capable of making the distinctions, given a moment's careful deliberation."

"Kurosaki?" Uryuu stiffens, eyes widening in shock at his error. "I knew a Kurosaki-kun in school. His name isn't Ichigo—"

"I should let you get back to…whatever you were doing. I should go."

"It is Ichigo, isn't it?" she quietly asks, recognition dawning. "You're talking about _that_ Kurosaki-kun!?"

"N-no," he lies weakly. She is not listening, though. Orihime is busy dredging up every last memory related to the boy she knew a decade ago. "It's not—"

"We all went to the same high school! But you never met him then, did you?" Her eyes swivel upward as she relives a specific moment. "He and I dated for a little while."

"He told me," Uryuu resignedly confirms. What's one more thing to feel wretched about? "You can't say anything about this, Orihime. Please."

"Of course not," she focuses on him to reassure. "I won't mention it to a soul!"

"Thank you."

"But you know…it makes sense now. Why you would like him."

"How so?"

"I remember Kurosaki-kun could occasionally be very rude and kind of crazy. Most of the time he was calm and thoughtful. Clever in the most unique ways. Quick to help whenever someone was in need. He didn't smile or laugh often but when he did…" Orihime trails off in recollection. Something gentle and caring crosses her face and Uryuu knows the feeling. She smiles wanly at him. "If he has changed like you say, Uryuu, of course you would fall for him. You never had a chance."

* * *

><p>Thanks in part to Orihime's urging—and also to Yoruichi for not killing him on sight—Uryuu resolves to discuss things with Kurosaki before deciding how to proceed. His lawyer realized a few minutes into the conversation that he has passed the 'point of no return' on this subject. She approved his plan with no small measure of trepidation. So, with Yoruichi's tentative sanction and Orihime's bubbly encouragement, Uryuu anxiously awaits his next session with Kurosaki.<p>

Except he doesn't show.

Uryuu takes that as a sign that Kurosaki managed to remember some of what transpired while Shirosaki was in control. He alternates being happy for this small advancement with being tense about the message his absence sends. Perhaps Shirosaki is the only personality attracted to Uryuu at all. Kurosaki could be struggling with anything from embarrassment to uncertainty to disgust. These thoughts rampaging in mind, Uryuu anxiously awaits his next _next _session with Kurosaki.

He still doesn't show.

In fact, Uryuu goes so far as to double-check with Ise about his schedule. Then he checks the news. But there are no relevant articles proclaiming orange-haired miscreants as the perpetrators of petty crime. After the third truancy, Uryuu caves and calls the contact number listed in Kurosaki's file. He gets none other than Kurosaki Isshin on the line. The jovial man is wholly unhelpful, however, in clarifying his son's abrupt change of heart. Though he does tell Uryuu that this is how Kurosaki usually ends services with therapists: he just stops going.

It takes two weeks to break Uryuu's patience. More aptly, it takes two weeks for Uryuu to become so tormented by increasingly absurd scenarios that he can't get a moment's rest from it. He is distracted at work and listless at home. Yoruichi orders him to thank his 'lucky stars' and forget all about it. Orihime advises him to do the opposite. Uryuu can't decide who is the better choice: angel or demon. He can't even decide who is the angel and who the demon.

One rainy evening after a long day at work, Uryuu stares out of his window into the downpour, thinking of Shirosaki's last words to him. It sounded like a childish reaction to rejection at the time. Now he wonders if Shirosaki was right after all: will Uryuu destroy everything with his doubt? He thinks of Zangetsu's insistence that Uryuu must be the one to repair them. Just when he had strengthened his faith in that prospect, it seemed to vanish. He thinks of Kurosaki's anger at the suggestion of a transfer and his assertion that Uryuu can still help him. Each fragment of Kurosaki is in accord, so full of the belief that salvation is possible through Uryuu.

He thinks of Kurosaki. Of all the many facets and fragments. Of how he makes Uryuu feel about himself, about life, about the world. He thinks of what it was like to have Kurosaki in his lap, kissing and touching and talking to him like he couldn't get enough. The warmth of his skin and the scent of his hair. How he had looked at Uryuu with such eagerness and awe. He thinks of the times they have argued and laughed and speculated about so many topics. Chatting at times more as friends than professional acquaintances.

Neliel interrupts him by hopping up onto the seat beside him. She eyes his half-eaten meal, reminding him of its existence. With a soft sigh, he picks up the plate and carries it into the kitchen to clean up. His cat follows him through the house as he meanders from one room to the next in idle search of nothing in particular. After his third lap through the circuit, he stops by his car keys and frowns.

"This is dumb," he tells her. "I should just go see him, right?" She offers a supportive meow and he nods. "That's acceptable, isn't it? A psychiatrist checking in on a possibly former-client. That's no big deal."

Green eyes blink slowly at him and Uryuu takes that as agreement. Pulling on a jacket over his casual jeans and t-shirt, Uryuu grabs an umbrella and heads out the door before he can change his mind. As soon as he gets into his car, Uryuu realizes he doesn't know the address. Groaning at himself, he grabs his phone and calls Ise for the information. Even at home she can ascertain whatever he needs at the drop of a hat. He makes sure to thank her profusely before hanging up to head out.

Kurosaki's apartment complex is in an older part of town, closer to the bustle of businesses and replete with traffic. It takes Uryuu twenty minutes on a Friday night to travel five miles in poor weather. Rehearsing what he will say and what he will refrain from saying, he almost runs into an older woman walking her small dog. By the time he gets there he is verging on becoming a nervous wreck. He parks in the first unmarked spot available and forgets the umbrella as he springs from his vehicle. Chill rain patters him from all angles in high winds and Uryuu promptly drops cold keys from rain-slick fingers. He scoops them up and pockets them almost as an afterthought.

Inside, the lobby is deserted. Only spastic doctors like Uryuu want to be out in a storm. His sneakers squeak crassly with each sodden step. Drops scatter from his hems as he jogs up the narrow stairs to the third floor. Despite all of this foreshadowing, it doesn't occur to Uryuu to be concerned about his appearance until the instant his fist makes rapping contact with the door.

"Shit," he mutters, pulling at his damp shirt. Suddenly this seems like the worst idea he has ever acted upon.

Before he can dart down the hall and pretend it was all a stupid daydream, Kurosaki appears in the doorway. To say he seems surprised to see Uryuu is too grave an understatement to allow. The man's jaw literally drops, arm falling limply from the knob to bounce once against his thigh. It takes him a handful of seconds to collect himself.

"_Ishida_?"

"Hello, Kurosaki."

"H-hey…"

And Kurosaki is still staring at him. Feeling foolish, Uryuu points a thumb towards the exit and says, "Maybe I should go—"

"No! No, you don't have to go. Come in. Please."

In spite of a lingering sense of awkwardness, he enters the small apartment. Kurosaki's studio is sparsely decorated and very neat. His only furniture is a small dining table with two chairs, a beat-up love seat across from an old TV on a low bookshelf, and a twin-size bed pushed against the only window. For a nurse, Kurosaki isn't exactly doing well for himself. Yet, Uryuu knows why. Kurosaki told him once that his father had financial troubles when his sisters got married so close together. Isshin had not asked for help—had in fact refused it—but Kurosaki had made him take it anyway. It looks like he is still helping.

Likely sensing Uryuu's thoughts, Kurosaki stands near the wall and doesn't try to make excuses. He wordlessly hands over a towel for his dripping hair. Uryuu uses it to dab at the soaked ends and apologizes for his appearance. Kurosaki shakes his head in dismissal.

They're off to a fantastic start.

"Kurosaki, I came to see why you haven't been coming to my office lately."

"Isn't it obvious?" he asks with widened eyes. "After what I did…"

"What did you do?"

Staring at Uryuu, it takes a couple false-starts before he eventually replies. "I forced you to kiss me."

"You remember kissing me, Kurosaki?"

"Y-yeah."

"Do you remember why you did it?"

Now Kurosaki blushes, bright enough to clash with his hair. He averts his gaze and shuffles his feet. Uryuu isn't asking for a confession. He isn't teasing the poor man or being intentionally mean. But he is inwardly shaking with excitement because Shirosaki's memories have bled through, and if that can happen maybe Kurosaki can finally realize what has been happening during these 'black-outs' of his.

"Well, because I—I wanted to kiss you, Ishida. I've wanted to for a while."

"What did you say to me, Kurosaki," he asks as he steps closer to the dubious man, "When you leaned over me and I asked you what you were doing?"

"I said…" Kurosaki's brow scrunches in concentration. His eyes attain a glassy cast and he shakes his head marginally. "I said I was…doing what I was too afraid to do."

"No. I'm asking what your _exact _words were. I asked, 'What are you doing, Shirosaki,' and you replied…?"

The name jolts through him, sparking a full-body twitch. Kurosaki's breath comes heavy and frantic from one second to the next. He looks up at Uryuu with all the intensity of an imminent implosion. Bringing a hand to his head, Kurosaki bumps against the wall on his retreat and gasps with it. Uryuu reaches for him.

"Ishida, what—?"

"It's all right, Kurosaki. You're safe." Strong hands grip tightly to Kurosaki's shoulders, grounding him. "Listen to me: you are safe."

"It wasn't me. It was that bastard Shirosaki," he says, breathless with revelation. "He pushed me out and attacked you."

"He didn't attack me. I'm fine."

"Shirosaki…that asshole!"

"You remember him now?"

"Yeah, I—" Kurosaki shakes his head again, as if to clear it. "What's happening to me, Ishida?"

"Look at me, Kurosaki."

"What the fuck is wrong with _my_ _brain_?"

"Look at me, Ichigo!" Startled at hearing his given name from Uryuu, he does. "Take a slow, deep breath. Don't give me that look, just do it. Okay. Now, I am going to tell you something that may disturb you but I don't want you to be afraid. Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"Then believe me when I say we will get through this. Do you understand?"

"Yes," he echoes, nodding along as his pulse begins to normalize. "I believe you."

Crisis apparently averted, Uryuu realizes the intimacy of their positions and releases Kurosaki to take a step back. He retrieves the towel from the floor and drapes it over the dining chair before sinking into it. Uryuu waits for Kurosaki to sit opposite him before elaborating.

"You are suffering from something called Dissociative Identity Disorder, most likely originating from the loss of your mother and the horrors you experienced at that time. It is an uncommon but treatable condition primarily characterized by the presence of multiple personalities called 'alters'." At first, the only reaction is a blank stare. Uryuu is patient. Soon he can see comprehension taking hold as Kurosaki integrates this. "I have interacted with two of your alters on several occasions thus far."

"You mean there're more than that Shirosaki guy?"

"There is one who seems to be the embodiment of your sadness, and another more stoic type who calls himself Zangetsu."

"Zangetsu…"

"Yes." Uryuu can tell the name is at least slightly familiar. Without jinxing this, Uryuu sends a silent word of gratitude that this is going so well. "It's possible that there are others who have yet to make contact, but those seem to be the dominant alters."

"So, maybe these _alters_ are causing my black-outs?"

"That is extremely likely."

"But sometimes I remember stuff from when they're in control? Like when I kissed you," Kurosaki reddens at a dimmer wattage than earlier. "I remembered doing that even though it wasn't _me_."

"Sometimes the strength of an event can counteract your mind's proclivity for selective amnesia. In other words, your emotions were too prominent at the time to block out your memories completely."

Uryuu's stomach gives a giddy flip at that explanation. The notion of Kurosaki being so affected by Uryuu that this essential defense mechanism was thwarted for the sake of remembering what it was like to make out with him is intoxicating. He is trying to remain professional here, just as if they were in his office like usual. As if this is just a house call. Going by the way Kurosaki is looking at him, it's not really working.

"How long have you known?"

"What's important now is that _you_ know. We can use this knowledge to begin repairing—"

"That long, huh?" Kurosaki stares down at his hands clasped on top of the table. "Wow."

"I'm sorry." That gets his attention. Uryuu openly portrays his remorse as he says, "I wasn't keeping it from you to be cruel. I truly thought it would be better in the long run if you initially realized it on your own."

"I know. You're never cruel. It's just kind of a shock." Something important passes between them as they regard each other. Uryuu fights the urge to reach across and grasp Kurosaki's hand. "I'm sorry, too."

"For what?"

"Shirosaki—he only did that because it's what I wanted."

The shame in his voice inspires Uryuu's hasty response. "Don't be."

Kurosaki's eyebrows rise as he looks Uryuu over, questing for hidden meaning. He hesitates to announce the full truth: that Uryuu would love nothing more than to do it again right now, preferably all night and with some extra activities thrown in. If Kurosaki's body language is telling him anything, it's that Uryuu would be in a lot of trouble if that statement came to pass. If by 'trouble' he means pleasure.

"Okay."

"So I want you to resume treatment next week. Tuesdays/Thursdays at two-thirty, as usual. No more ditching our sessions because you think I'm angry with you. Got it?"

Kurosaki smiles. "Yeah."

"Good."

The only remaining topic is the most difficult one. Uryuu came here partly to make sure Kurosaki was all right and partly to convince him to stop acting like a child skipping class. The main reason, however, was to clear the air about their last meeting. Meaning Uryuu needs to come right out and say it. Kurosaki's frown halts him.

"You're shivering."

"It's fine."

But Kurosaki is already up, across the room and tugging the blanket from his meticulously-made bed. Uryuu stands to stop him but winds up with the comforter draped around his shoulders instead. Kurosaki rubs warming hands up and down his arms with a distant look of concentration. There are no ulterior motives here; Kurosaki isn't doing this as an excuse to get closer. He's doing it because he is worried about Uryuu's welfare.

"There," Kurosaki states when the quivers stop after a few moments of this attention. "I'll make you some tea."

"I've wanted to do it, too." The man freezes mid-motion. Slowly raises his eyes to meet Uryuu's. The hesitant hope in his expression is heart-rending. "I've thought about it. So many times."

"Don't tell me that," Kurosaki groans. His fingers constrict around the outline of his arms through thick fabric. "You can't say that, Ishida. I know about the rules."

"What do you want, Kurosaki?"

Uryuu makes it clear in his tone what he's really asking. Based on his answer, Uryuu might give up everything for him. Kurosaki watches him for a prolonged moment. Struggling with some internal battle between yes and no. Finally, he sighs and lowers his gaze.

"I want you to be my shrink."

"If you're only saying that because you're worried about me—"

"I need you," he carefully enunciates at the floor. "To be my psychiatrist."

A fine tremor rocks Kurosaki's stiff spine. There are too many forces warring within him at once. Uryuu thinks he can probably guess a few of them. Aware of his career's statutes, Kurosaki knows a relationship with a client is forbidden. Punishable by revocation of rights to practice. He must also be weighing the desire to have Uryuu with the risk of losing him and all the help he could afford Kurosaki. In addition, Kurosaki's decision may be influenced by his own sense of self-worth. If he believes himself to be toxic, as he has mentioned in previous sessions, Kurosaki would wish to spare Uryuu any potential danger associated with proximity to him.

These are all legitimate points. Uryuu can't invalidate them without launching an entire campaign against Kurosaki's line of thinking. So he relents. For now.

"All right, Kurosaki."


	10. Crushing

AN: More warnings for violence and offensive language in this chapter.

* * *

><p>Over two months have passed and Ichigo is congratulating himself for the improvements he has made with his psyche. After a rough couple of weeks when he kept 'forgetting' about his alters, Ishida eventually drilled it into his head. Now Ichigo recognizes that most of those weird thoughts that seemed to come from nowhere were actually spill-over from Shirosaki, Tensa, or Zangetsu. He hasn't had a black-out or a switch since that auspicious day in Ishida's office. Moreover, Ichigo has grown to notice when switches are more likely to occur: during moments of great stress or panic. Armed with this knowledge, Ichigo is learning to fight his alters' influence with the armory of Ishida's calming techniques.<p>

All in all, he can't complain.

In a perfect world, he could attain mental health and a boyfriend at the same time. Unfortunately, he has chosen the former in order to spare the latter. Just the idea of Ishida suffering _any _misfortune because of him—as all of Ichigo's exes have—is unbearable. When Ishida had stood drenched and shivering in his apartment and admitted his feelings for Ichigo, he almost lost it. Though a part of him had fantasized about it, he never really believed it was possible. The fact that Ishida likes him back nearly ruined him in the best way. But he knows he couldn't do that to the one person who has given him so much for so little in return. Better he get well as soon as possible and get out of Ishida's hair so he can get on with his life without Ichigo.

It's been working well enough so far. He asked Ishida to be his psychiatrist and that's exactly what he has been. Though they're friendlier than they should be, as usual. At least they're not spending half their sessions making out, as Ichigo's mind likes to idly imagine. Sometimes Ishida calls him out on his dirty thoughts. Hiding a smile and telling him to focus on the current topic or exercise. Sometimes Ichigo does it for the knowing little smirk alone.

Aside from avoiding criminal acts and unnecessary aggression, Ichigo's personal relationships have been improving. He spends less of his free time staring at his apartment ceiling from the flat of his back and more time with his family and friends. Yuzu is pregnant. Karin is considering adoption. Old Goat-Chin is ecstatic to the point of tears daily. Chad has a new job and Mizuiro is engaged. Tatsuki is entering grad school next semester and Keigo is finally starting that brewery he's been talking about for years. He even promised Ichigo free beer from the first batch. They have all been inviting him to parties and demanding he hang out when they see how well he is doing. Ichigo couldn't be happier for them.

It almost seems too good to be true. Everything in Ichigo's life is coming together now. Old habits compel him to pessimism, waiting for something to go wrong or fall apart. Ishida tells him that's normal but not exactly productive. Ichigo does his best to focus on the good without dreading the bad; it's hard. A task made harder by the negative influences he occasionally encounters.

Celebrating Keigo's venture into the vast horizons of entrepreneurship one Saturday night, Ichigo is enjoying this precious time with his friends. They are 'taste-testing' around the pubs Downtown when they run into the Terrible Trio themselves.

"What's zis?" Ichimaru slurs, sauntering across the street to their group. "Hey, look who I found! Blondie, 'Spic, Dumb, 'n Dumber!"

He snickers heartily at the colorful nicknames as his two cronies catch up to him. Aizen tosses them a contemptuous leer and Tousen sighs disinterestedly. Ichigo still doesn't understand why a racist idiot like this is friends with a blind black dude, but hey—he's not judging. In fact, he is calmly walking around them, trailed by his gang.

"Looks like he doesn't care to play tonight, Gin," teases Aizen. "Too bad."

"Welll…my partic'lar brand o' playin' don't need nobody's consent."

That said, Ichimaru sticks a foot out to trip Keigo as he passes. The naturally clumsy man hits concrete, cutting his palm on some glass in the road. Ichigo bristles.

"You okay?" he asks as he helps him up. Ichigo knows better than to glare at the culprit and feed his sadistic humor. Instead, he focuses on picking a couple slivers of glass from the wound. "Take my wrist cuff and squeeze tight. We need to wash this ASAP."

"Nurse Ichigo to the rescue," Keigo weakly jokes, complying as instructed. "Thanks. I'm fine."

"Did he just call you 'Nurse Strawberry'?" howls the silver-haired fox-face. He cackles and slaps his knees as they start to walk away. "That is too rich!"

"This is childish," scoffs Tousen.

The man heads off down the sidewalk without his companions. His exit sobers Ichimaru, who follows Ichigo's group. Resolutely ignoring the cretin, he does a quick breathing exercise and stares straight ahead.

"Hey, Blondie," Ichimaru whispers a couple times to get his attention. "Wanna know a secret?"

Sensing an inevitable confrontation, Ichigo purposely slows his pace to let his friends pull ahead. Whatever these assholes have in mind, he doesn't want them caught up in it.

"Go on ahead," he says when they catch on. "I'll meet you in the next one."

"Ichigo…" Chad dissents.

"I've got this."

It's another measure of how far he has come that Chad's response is _not _a worried frown but a trusting nod. He has faith that Ichigo will manage not to lose control this time. Bolstered by this reassurance, Ichigo waits until they leave before turning on the tenacious pair.

"It's a pretty juicy secret."

"What do you want from me?"

"Your blood on the ground would be nice," Aizen tonelessly remarks.

"I've never done anything to you!"

"Ya sayin' we need a reason to bash a flamboyant pretty-boy strollin' in our turf without a care?" Dropping the false smile, Ichimaru's narrow eyes crack open a fraction. "Told ya before, didn't I? Yer kind's not welcome here."

It's not the first time he's been slammed with pointless bias-based hatred. Ichigo has always had oddly-colored hair and a bad attitude. But this seems almost personal. It's possible Ichigo _has _done something to them—as Shirosaki—and forgotten about it. No matter how long he tries, some memories remain hidden from him. There's nothing he can do about that now, though. The best thing he can do is defuse the situation before it comes to blows. He's not sure he can keep it together if it does.

"Fine. Then how about I take my 'kind' and get the hell out of here. Will that work for you?"

"Nah, 'fraid not."

"We've already warned you once. Now it's time for punishment."

With a swipe fast enough to blur in the dim lap light, Ichimaru aims a strike at his stomach. Ichigo dodges that, plus another thrown by Aizen. He skips back a few steps and clamps down on the adrenaline tainting his reason. Ichigo has a second to wonder what Ishida would do in this situation before they're on him again. It takes all of his concentration to avoid their combined onslaught. After a few minutes of this, Ichimaru pauses to laugh.

"Hey, Nurse Strawberry. That secret I mentioned…it's about yer baby sis'."

Ichigo freezes. Both men's smirks widen as their ploy hits the mark.

"The fuck are you talking about?" Ichigo angrily barks. "Don't pretend you know anything about me."

"Oh, but we do," Aizen smoothly steps in. "Your lesbian whore of a sibling has been making quite the splash in certain circles lately."

"'Kurosaki Karin Leads Attack Against Domestic Violence'," Ichimaru quotes from a local newspaper article. "Bitch got my woman to run out on me last month. After I'd spent so long gettin' her _juuust_ the way I wanted her."

Eyes flaring, Ichigo recalls Karin mentioning this person, Matsumoto Rangiku. She said she'd been getting beaten for years, too afraid to tell anyone until Karin's speech on a news station inspired her to seek freedom. They're close friends now. Working together to overcome similar issues and help others suffering the same pain Rangiku has. To think a piece of scum like this dares to show himself in public…Not to mention terrorizing innocent people like Keigo for the hell of it. And who knows what kinds of cruelty this Aizen character gets up to in his downtime? He seems the more enigmatically sinister of the two.

Ichigo hears the disdainful hiss of Shirosaki's rage echo in the back of his head. Feels tendrils of unforgiving ferocity twist inside him. He resists the switch as he has been taught and Shirosaki recedes.

"Though that's not quite the secret, is it, Gin?"

"Yer gonna love this," the fox-bastard grins, dipping low in a faux-conspiracy. "Don't tell anyone but…that lesbo's got a hit out on 'er."

"_What_!?"

"Well, you say 'hit' but it's more like a personal vendetta," Aizen clarifies. "Gin gets into these moods sometimes…You know how it is."

"I'm gonna kill the bitch," he avidly agrees. "Right after I do _you_ in."

"But Gin is a bit of a pervert."

"Damn straight."

"So he won't kill her right away, to be sure. No, he'll teach her a man's touch first."

"Mmhmm."

"So don't fret."

They keep at it for a while but Ichigo can't hear them anymore. He is too busy watching Karin being cornered by Ichimaru. Held down and raped. Tortured. Murdered. Flashes of his mother's terrified face pepper the scenario. The feel of her fresh blood cooling on his skin. Guttural sounds she had made because she couldn't bring herself to speak. He pictures Karin going through that and Shirosaki's outraged screech cuts into him like barbed wire. Fear and agony settle over Ichigo, a caustic wash eroding his restraint.

Ichigo looks at these smiling men and sees demonic abominations. He sees creatures too evil and corrupt to call human. Zangetsu rumbles things like _enemy_ and _battle_ and _instinct_. _Protect your family_. Tensa exudes a silent fury waiting for an outlet to unleash it all. The three alters rage against his hold and struggle to the surface simultaneously. Rather than shove them away, he invites them on board. Consequently, Ichigo is able to use their strength, their resolve, and their combined efficacy to augment himself. In this way, he can access the abilities of each while maintaining his autonomy.

So, when Aizen slips on a pair of brass knuckles and Ichimaru whips out a butterfly knife, Ichigo raises his head and evenly appraises them. Zangetsu draws attention to various openings in their stances as Shirosaki tells him how to block one and strike the other in one fluid motion. Tensa helps him keep a hold on his temper and use it as an extra boost of strength. The result is Ichimaru knocked into the grimy Dumpster behind him and Aizen staggering up against the oily brick wall.

Yet, their shock is quick to transform. They are up and bracketing Ichigo in a pincer attack. He kicks Aizen in the stomach hard enough to wind him. Ichimaru gets a slash in across Ichigo's arm but it's shallow. Shirosaki screams at him for taking the injury, distracting him when Aizen lunges. They go down in a haphazard crumple of limbs. Zangetsu urges him to use his superior torque to throw the man before he can be pinned. Ichigo reverses them and throws a heavy fist into Aizen's cheekbone. Again and again until Ichimaru comes up behind him and presses the blade to his throat.

The knife nicks his skin but Ichigo catches the man's wrist before it can finish the job. Whatever panic and pain he should feel are contained by Tensa's calm resolve. Ripping the weapon away, Ichigo tosses Ichimaru up and over to land hard on his side. Ichigo hears the dull crack of a thick bone under a short shout of agony. Laughing high and wild, Shirosaki whoops in delight. Aizen growls something indistinguishable from the ragged sounds of their breathing, unsheathes a small dagger, and loosely slashes at him. Occupied with assessing Ichimaru, he doesn't notice it until Zangetsu yells an urgent warning. Ichigo manages to jerk back and miss most of it, but the edge catches his upper thigh, close to an artery. His training tells him the wound could become grave if it's not tended very soon.

Standing and taking several steps back, Ichigo watches the two men slowly pick themselves up. They spear him with the most vicious intent to kill he has ever seen. Ichimaru holds his arm with one hand, tightening his fist around his knife with the other, and turns his wince of pain into a deadly sneer. Aizen wipes blood from his cheek and licks it from his thumb.

"You put up a good fight, kid," he praises. "But we're just getting serious."

"Say bye-bye!"

They attack as one, swinging wide and fast. Ichigo tilts and dips and side-steps but it's not enough. Small lacerations accumulate and it's too much like that time by the river. Black, choking panic billows up, cloying and destabilizing. His intricate synchronicity quakes at the core until he loses contact with his alters. Loses track of his own thoughts. Ichigo catches photos of the affair like the erratic flickering of a strobe. Blood loss addles his taxed consciousness as he gasps and gasps and gasps. Ichimaru's scowling face is superimposed with that bone-white mask. Aizen is dripping not the sweat of exertion but the same cursed rain that fell on Ichigo and his dead mother.

Ichigo's eyes slowly close.


	11. Caring

Uryuu's eyes snap open.

Watching a documentary about the Middle East, he had fallen asleep on his couch again. He blinks in confusion for a minute, wondering what woke him so suddenly. Then he hears a second set of frantic knocks on his door. Gently dislodging Nel from his lap, Uryuu pads over to the door and blearily opens it. The thought that he should probably look through the peephole first occurs later. Which is why he nearly has a heart attack when Kurosaki stumbles into his foyer.

The man is half-conscious, bleeding from an array of shallow cuts and mumbling something like apologies and pleas as he fights gravity. Poorly. Uryuu catches him before he hits the ground, grip slipping across the viscous fluid still oozing from a few deeper slits. He is too stunned for words at first. Everything comes pouring out after a pause.

"Kurosaki, what happened? Are you all righ—of course you aren't, I'm sorry. Can you walk? We need to get you to the bathroom. I have a first-aid kit. Here, drape your arm over my neck."

Uryuu more or less drags him down the hall on his own. Kurosaki continues to mumble things while Uryuu picks out a word here or there. Something about his sister and a fight Downtown. He really starts to worry when he hears the phrase _'couldn't stop myself_'. They have talked about Kurosaki's latent fear of accidentally taking someone's life several times, though he thought they were well past that as a possibility. Although it doesn't sound like Kurosaki had a switch so much as an _episode_ of sorts. Some kind of stress-induced mania resulting in a violent reaction. If Kurosaki is like this, Uryuu pales to think how his enemies are doing.

Propping Kurosaki on the closed toilet, he frantically rummages through his cabinets to yank out the little kit containing antiseptic and bandages. His hands shake as he opens the case and sets it on the counter. Uryuu keeps shooting glances to Kurosaki, who is swaying gently as if drunk. Seeing as he doesn't smell like alcohol but he has clearly lost a lot of blood, he guesses it is from severe dizziness and disorientation.

"'M sorry, Ish'da."

"Hush, Kurosaki. If I give you water, can you drink it? We might have to take you to the hospital for a transfusion…"

"No hosp'l!"

Emphatically tossing out an arm to negate that suggestion, Kurosaki almost falls off his perch. Uryuu rights him and avoids pulling at his numerous wounds. A few of them seep steadily, dripping crimson on his white tiles. Kurosaki's shifting feet smear the little dots into a wide streak of pink.

"All right, no hospital. I will treat you, Kurosaki; I am a doctor, after all." Looking over the ripped canvas of Kurosaki's fragile skin, Uryuu is overwhelmed by what he sees. "There are so many…Can you stand?"

"Mn."

"I can't clean all of these one at a time. We need to get you into the shower."

Uryuu flips the handles to start the spray. He turns to Kurosaki and thinks for a second. Then pulls out a pair of safety scissors from his kit and snips through the ruined t-shirt. The shocked gasp that tries to slip out is prudently snuffed when Uryuu uncovers his torso. Fresh cuts criss-cross with old scars of varying lengths and depths. The 'man with the bone-white mask' did greater damage than Zangetsu originally confessed. The new additions are less serious, for sure, but Uryuu worries what emotional effect they will have on Kurosaki once he gets past the initial panic.

When his ministrations get no reaction, he tugs Kurosaki into a teetering stand and unfastens his pants for him, letting them pool at his ankles. Uryuu frowns when this triggers an immature flush to his face. He's not a damned teenager! Still, he doesn't dare go near Kurosaki's boxers. But he removes the man's shoes and socks to finish the rest.

Stepping into the tub fully-clothed, he guides Kurosaki under the water and winces in sympathy when the man hisses. Uryuu grabs the bottle of body wash and a clean wash cloth to carefully wipe over the planes of him without causing more pain. A combination of rushing water and stinging sores brings some focus back to Kurosaki's tired eyes. He blinks them open and stares at Uryuu as he works. One of his hands braces against the slick wall as Uryuu kneels to dab at the short cut at the top of his leg.

Rather than allow himself to be swept away by events, Uryuu focuses on the diluted blood being swept away in the rosy stream between Kurosaki's feet. He straightens after a moment. Kurosaki's gaze follows his face as he leans to this side or the other, making sure he doesn't miss anything. His glasses are fogging over and collecting condensation in spite of the water's tepid chill. Uryuu wipes at them as an afterthought. Then Kurosaki's arms rise slowly and Uryuu stills. He fixates on the central hollow of his collar bone and takes shallow breaths. His glasses are lifted away and everything clears as it blurs in a different way.

Kurosaki hangs them on the shower caddy behind him and Uryuu finally meets his glance. He raises a hand to hover beside Uryuu's cheek, not quite touching but close enough to feel its warmth. Kurosaki's brow scrunches in a new type of frustration and anguish. Fingers extend, wanting to touch, but Kurosaki curls them back as he closes his eyes. And Uryuu knows that expression. It's the same one he made when talking about lending his father money. Or driving his sisters to classes even when he is late for work. Or spending more time than he can spare with a scared patient. It's the face Kurosaki makes when he has decided to be selfless no matter what.

Uryuu is sick of seeing that expression.

Bringing both of his hands up, he fits the palms to Kurosaki's jaw and holds him in place. The man's mouth parts in confusion as Uryuu nudges in to fit a firm kiss to his lips.

Kurosaki immediately jerks back to exclaim, "Uryuu, what're you d—"

But he is already moving back in, stubbornly hooking the back of his neck to keep him from escaping. Kurosaki exhales a muffled sound of surprise before giving up. He lets Uryuu in. The soft slide of his diffident tongue alongside Uryuu's is antagonistic to the confident way Shirosaki had rolled and flicked like it was second-nature. Kurosaki doesn't nip at him or trace with rough nails or make any sort of animalistic noises. He is quiet and shy and careful. Uryuu's heart clenches with it. That's when he realizes what Kurosaki just called him.

They part for air, resting foreheads together as they pant over the susurrus of scattering droplets. Kurosaki's hands have settled possessively at his waist without him noticing. Following them up to an arm, Uryuu is reminded of why they are here.

"You're still bleeding," he murmurs, reluctantly pulling away.

Shifting his dazed eyes down, Kurosaki frowns. He lets Uryuu turn off the shower and wrap him in a fluffy black towel. The symmetry of the moment as Uryuu's hands pat lightly along the fabric is not lost on him. He thinks back to that day in Kurosaki's apartment and what it felt like to let his guard down for a little while. Even with a simple kiss, Uryuu is swimming in it now. He defies the urge to clear his head with a shake as he grabs the disinfectant and directs Kurosaki to sit. He dabs a swath of gauze with the solution and watches Kurosaki take deep breaths in preparation.

"Do it."

Uryuu does. He gets the worst of them first, squeezing some of the fluid to leak into the deeper wounds. Kurosaki stiffens, holding the edges of his toilet lid and scowling darkly but otherwise remaining silent. He breathes only in the interim between applications. By the time Uryuu is almost finished, Kurosaki has paled considerably.

"Give me warning if you're going to faint, Ichigo." At the name, Kurosaki snaps his head up to stare. Uryuu smiles. "I don't need you bonking your head on something and causing another injury for me to tend."

That gets a weak half-smile from Kurosaki. Then Uryuu picks up a tube of Dermabond.

"What is that?"

"The next best thing from cauterization or stitches." Uryuu briefly bites a lip in remorse before he says, "But it's going to sting."

"Bring it on."

The first one is the wicked gash on Kurosaki's leg and the man groans a creative string of curses as the abrasive chemical activates and adheres to his skin. Uryuu makes quick work of the rest to spare him more of this obligatory torment. He breaks out a roll of bandages just to be safe but Kurosaki stops him with a scowl of distaste, stating he doesn't want to feel like a mummy. Though a stern look convinces him to at least let Uryuu wrap the worst one on his leg.

As soon as he is done, he leads Kurosaki to his bedroom and pushes a bundle of Uryuu's loosest clothing into his hands. While Kurosaki carefully pulls them on, Uryuu changes his own sodden clothes in his walk-in closet. He emerges to push Kurosaki off shaky legs to lie on his bed. The man gasps with something other than discomfort and Uryuu notices the way what little blood he retains floods his face. Only then does Uryuu think about what he is doing.

"You need to rest," he hastily explains in a shoddy imitation of his doctor-voice. "Stay here for the night and we'll see how you're doing in the morning."

"Uryuu…"

"I'll go make you something to eat."

He busies himself in the kitchen for about fifteen minutes. Uryuu doesn't berate himself for helping Kurosaki like this. What would be the point? The man had asked him to restrict their relationship to its professional elements and Uryuu has respected that until tonight. However much he may have wanted to show up at the man's apartment every single day and ask him to reconsider. He still feels guilty about falling for his patient despite being fully cognizant of consequences and rules.

But there is no way he could turn Kurosaki away in this state. As a friend, he could never forgive himself. Kissing Kurosaki, though…that was another matter entirely. Uryuu fidgets where he stands beside the stove, thinking of the man sitting in his bed. Behaving so bashfully and not asking Uryuu for anything at all. Taking whatever he is given with humble appreciation. That is the Kurosaki he is most strongly enamored with.

Heaping hasty stir-fry into a white bowl, Uryuu pads into his bedroom with a purposely blank expression. Kurosaki is idly tracing over one of his older scars when he walks in. Uryuu frowns at his pensive expression.

"Eat this," he orders, placing it on the bedside table. "All of it."

Kurosaki opens his mouth to speak but Uryuu is already sweeping from the room. He cleans up the restroom before the bloodstains set in. His bath mat is ruined but Uryuu really could not care less. The process takes him less than ten minutes, so he goes back into the kitchen to brew Kurosaki a cup of hot tea with another instruction to finish it, evading another attempted comment. He clears the cookware next. After that he retraces their steps and swipes at dots of red trailing like breadcrumbs from the front door. By the time he runs out of busywork, Uryuu is no closer to calming his frazzled nerves and he can't avoid Kurosaki any longer.

Both the food and tea are dutifully dealt with when he returns. Uryuu reaches for the dishes but he is stopped by a firm grasp on his wrist. He looks up to see Kurosaki pleading with his eyes; it works. Sighing, Uryuu crosses to the other side of the bed and sits, resting his stiff spine against the headboard. They sit in silence for a while, Kurosaki's hands are trembling faintly where they rest on his thighs.

"Do you want to hear what happened?"

"Only if you want to tell me."

Kurosaki nods marginally, gazing unseeing at the opposite wall as he begins to recant the night's events. Uryuu is careful to contain his shock, his outrage, his disgust at the men who threatened Kurosaki and his family. Though he is fascinated by the description of his experience integrating his alters simultaneously, Uryuu is blind-sided by what comes next.

"I knew I wasn't going to make it much longer. My vision was blurring and all three of them were shrieking in my head." Stoic up to this moment, Kurosaki's façade starts to crack and chip at the edges. Voice shaking, he shuts his eyes as if in pain. "And I just kept thinking, 'I have to protect Karin,' and, 'I don't want to die.'"

"What happened, Ichigo?" he whispers, dreading the answer.

"Aizen raised his arm again and I grabbed Ichimaru—yanked him in front of me—and Aizen couldn't stop in time. He stabbed him in the chest. While Ichimaru was screaming, I took his knife and pushed it into Aizen's stomach." Kurosaki gasps fast and ill-paced. His fingers grab an imaginary blade and drop it to gape at imaginary blood on his open palms. "I felt their lives pouring out onto my hands…"

"It's okay," Uryuu murmurs.

Seeing him like this pushes something neatly into place for Uryuu. Suddenly so many muddled things become perfectly clear. Uryuu shifts across the mattress to wrap Kurosaki in a light embrace. He wants to pull the man against him hard enough to meld together, to share one heart and one mind and all of this burden. He settles for dusting quiet assurances into his hair, against his ear, over his neck where he grazes a sort of kiss. Kurosaki responds to him with a stuttering exhale and an anchoring arm around his waist.

"I ran. I don't even know if they're alive, Uryuu. I might have killed them—"

"Shhh," he soothes, bringing a hand up to brace against Kurosaki's jaw. "It's not your fault, Ichigo. It's _not your fault_. They threatened Karin's life—_your_ life—and you had no choice. Do you hear me?"

"But I could've run sooner. I could've—"

"So that they could come back later with more friends and more weapons? What if they had chased you and attacked with your back turned? What if bystanders had become involved?"

"I need to call the cops!"

"I will call an ambulance," Uryuu compromises with iron in his tone, "But you will not be arrested for this. I will not allow it."

At first Uryuu is thinking selfishly. He doesn't want Kurosaki to go away so that he can't see him anymore. Yet, as he digs out his phone to place the call, another consequence occurs to him. Being sentenced for a crime like dual homicide would shatter the mending psyche they have worked so hard to preserve. Whether or not Kurosaki is to blame—and Uryuu knows he is not—his personality would see to it that guilt breaks him before a judge's verdict could. This in mind, he gives the relevant information to the emergency dispatch and disconnects when she requests his name. Kurosaki watches the exchange with the desolate expression of a lost child. Uryuu wants to tell him he will never be lost again.

Instead, he plaits the fingers of their touching hands together and stares soberly until Kurosaki's brow incrementally relaxes. When Kurosaki leans in to take a light kiss, Uryuu mirrors it. When Kurosaki squeezes his hand, Uryuu presses right back. And when Kurosaki lies back against the pillows, Uryuu follows.


	12. Not Going Anywhere

He jolts awake in the middle of the night from a horrific dream involving Ichigo and a pair of faceless demons with dozens of knives for fingers. Cold sweat dots his clammy skin and Uryuu must focus to regulate his breathing. His pulse takes a bit more coaxing. Uryuu looks down at where Ichigo's arms encircle him, legs twined tidily together like three-dimensional puzzle pieces. He shifts back into the loose hold and releases a long, steadying exhale. Ichigo's warm breath puffs rhythmically against the back of his neck. Warmth radiates through their clothes—the ones they've managed to keep on in spite of themselves.

"Uryuu?" he sleepily murmurs, drawing a deeper breath with consciousness. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Bad dream."

Even with so little explanation, Ichigo seems to interpret the rest. His long fingers spread and splay over belly and heart. He nuzzles into Uryuu's hair and holds him tighter.

"I'm right here. Not going anywhere."

The implication sticks in his throat and delays his next inhale. Uryuu wants this. Wants it so much that his chest aches with it. Ichigo is right here, open and inviting. He bites his lip as he resists the equal urges to say silly romantic one-liners best left in a telenovela, versus direly dramatic statements of foreboding. His extended silence alerts Ichigo, who extricates his limbs from Uryuu to roll him to his back and hover above him. Ichigo's dark eyes flick over his face for a few seconds.

"Ichigo, I—"

He is cut off by a deliberate press of lips. Ichigo kisses him with all the vigor of a first embrace…or a final goodbye. His tongue is purposeful in Uryuu's mouth, using his leverage to command the pace and intensity of the kiss. Uryuu is too stunned to present much resistance. This Ichigo doesn't touch him like the raw, overbearing Shirosaki _or_ the meek, unsure Kurosaki he comforted mere hours ago. This Ichigo drags a heavy palm over Uryuu's side, disregarding his shirt to follow the smooth line of him upward. This Ichigo pushes in and pulls back out with a salacious confidence that leaves Uryuu giddy for more.

This Ichigo is going to fucking _ruin_ _him_.

"I don't want to hear it, Uryuu," he rumbles against his throat. "Not tonight."

Nibbling at the sensitive spot below his ear, Ichigo shoves a hand past Uryuu's hip under the waistband of his pants and cups a healthy handful of his ass. Uryuu twitches once at the unexpected pleasure and doesn't quite smother a moan. Running down his leg to the back of a knee, Ichigo uses the hold to create a space for himself. He sidles into the spot and leans their lower halves together. Uryuu's eyes flare wide and then snap shut at the sensation. His thighs come up to bracket Ichigo's hips of their own accord.

"_Ichigo_," he helplessly groans as the man starts moving.

He is sucking at Uryuu's collar bone, leaving little marks and canting his hips like Ichigo knows exactly what he needs. Slowly, agonizingly slowly. Uryuu can feel eyes on him, drinking in every sharp sip of air and startled flutter of eyelashes. Already at his limit for opposition, Uryuu gives up the fight and reaches for him. He pulls Ichigo into a hungry kiss and steals the man's enthusiastic sounds.

But he grows overeager, gripping at a forearm, and Ichigo makes another noise altogether. Uryuu pulls away at the slight grunt of pain. He rebukes himself for forgetting that Ichigo is still injured; despite actions to the contrary. He's shocked that the man can move so energetically, given his blood loss.

"Never mind it," Ichigo preempts his question. "I don't care."

"I don't want to hurt you. Ah—I have codeine! That will dull any discomfort."

"Forget it." He halts Uryuu with an unyielding arm before he can get out of bed. "It might dull the pain, but it'd dull the pleasure, too. I don't want to miss a single sensation, Uryuu."

At his fierce look, Uryuu can only nod dimly. Ichigo rewards him by dragging off Uryuu's shirt and attacking his chest with a frenzied series of kisses, licks, and gentle bites. Uryuu's hands flutter feather-light over Ichigo's skin, tracing down his back and settling safely at his steadily rolling hips. And it has been _so long_ since Uryuu did anything like this. Even longer since it meant anything. The blood rampages haphazardly through him, indecisive about whether to rush to his head or his cock.

The decision is made when Ichigo snaps open his pants and tugs them down. Uryuu watches him lick his lips as he undresses him. The heat in that gaze triggers a quick succession of shivers that give rise to gooseflesh. Ichigo smirks at him, teasing with his expression at Uryuu's sensitivity.

"Shut up," he grumbles, reaching for the loose ties on Ichigo's borrowed bottoms. "Hurry up and get naked before I change my mind about this."

Ichigo obliges, gently tugging off his own shirt and shoving at his pants with Uryuu's assistance. He settles back in, slotting their hips together and propping himself up on elbows. Uryuu's hands go to his hair and drag him in for a rough kiss. There is a bit of nipping and maybe too much tongue but neither of them cares. Ichigo's erection is a hot, damp slide alongside his and the magic of that feeling alone defies words. The drag of Ichigo's fingertips down his sides, then carding through his hair, now tapping at the back of his neck are all welcome additions.

They part for breath after procrastinating as long as possible. Ichigo moans low against his ear as his pace stutters momentarily and Uryuu murmurs hearty encouragements. The rhythmic snap of his hips match Ichigo's almost perfectly, like this synchronicity is something that comes naturally to them. But Ichigo's movements slow as he pulls away to look into Uryuu's half-lidded eyes. He stops altogether and just stares, palms reverently brushing the sides of his face.

"Promise me you won't regret this."

Uryuu hesitates because he can't honestly swear he won't. There is so much at stake with what they are doing. Implications of not only Uryuu's career but of possible imprisonment and other far-reaching consequences because of who Ichigo is and what he has done. Uryuu knows he will not resent this memory, no matter what. But he can't promise he'll never wish they could've done things a little differently.

Ichigo sees it instantly. A soft smile spreads across his face and he shakes his head twice.

"Ichigo, I—"

"Never mind. It doesn't matter."

He wants to argue; it very much _does_ matter and dismissal isn't the best way to deal with this. Uryuu begins to say as much but Ichigo starts moving again. His lips close on a circle of Uryuu's throat and suck. At the same time, he sneaks a hand between them and closes a large fist around them both in a tight grip. The rebuttal becomes a startled moan and Uryuu bites his lip to keep from crying out when Ichigo's teeth graze the freshly-bruised flesh.

Expertly, Ichigo builds them up and keeps them on a jittery brink for longer than Uryuu would prefer. His body aches with it, straining up into that hold, the friction of Ichigo's sweat-slick skin. He gets vocal with his wishes; wordless complaints and insistent tugs to short hair. Still Ichigo delays. And Uryuu understands why: he doesn't want it to end. If it wouldn't drive them both totally insane, he'd almost rather they postpone it all night. So they could stay like this, close and warm and so full of passion. No thoughts spared for worry about the future. Nothing distracting them from what they are feeling for each other in this moment.

But of course it has to end.

"Uryuu," he murmurs over and over between kisses, a frantic litany punctuated with Uryuu's answering moans. "So beautiful. Like this, you're so fucking _gorgeous_."

He says it like it hurts. Like Ichigo is being reduced to ash simply by beholding him. The waver of his low voice makes Uryuu's chest constrict even as his lungs demand that it expand. Uryuu can't take anymore. He begs, one word and Ichigo groans like he just delivered the killing blow. His hips' speed doubles and his fingers squeeze. Uryuu pulls him into a final kiss and they come with stilted gasps into each other's mouths. Liquid fire rips down his spine and radiates outward. He feels Ichigo shaking above him, muttering disjointed nonsense and invoking deities.

After the high fades, their eyes find each other. Ichigo gazes at him with such naked veneration that Uryuu's throat closes. He kisses Ichigo, guiding him down to lie beside him without irritating his wounds. They stay close even after their breathing slows and the sweat dries. Uryuu can't even be bothered to care about the sticky mess between them. All that matters is the weight of that stare on his face. The seal of their lips again and again. The warmth of Ichigo in his arms.

And he is not letting go.

* * *

><p>As soon as Uryuu is deeply asleep again, Ichigo runs.<p>

It is a very long walk back to his dingy apartment on the other side of town but he is grateful for the time to reflect. He mentally drafts the letter he will write to Uryuu and mail in the morning before he leaves town. Even though every corner of his soul is screaming for him to turn right back around and crawl into Uryuu's bed, enfold the man in his arms forever. Yet, Ichigo knows he will cause more pain if he stays than if he takes his poison influence out of Uryuu's life before he ends up tearing it apart.

Going to Uryuu tonight was a mistake. His father, well-versed in Ichigo's violent mishaps, could've tended him just as well. Instead, he made Uryuu an accessory to what is likely double-homicide in addition to taking advantage of his affection for Ichigo and seeking comfort he does not deserve. He presses against the knot in his chest as he thinks of the way Uryuu kissed him so tenderly, so reverently. Ichigo has never known that kind of love before, raw and almost painful in its purity. For that feeling, he is unspeakably grateful and humbled.

That is why he must go. If being with Uryuu will endanger the man in any way, he cannot allow himself to do it. Ichigo refuses to be the reason Uryuu loses the privilege to do something he cherishes so much. Refuses to drag him into Ichigo's fucked-up sideways world where friends get abused and lovers wind up in tears. Uryuu's misery would break Ichigo faster than any fist, law, or judgment ever would.

Inside his apartment at last, Ichigo packs a bag in ten minutes before he sits down to write a surprisingly short letter.

* * *

><p>"What do you mean you're leaving?"<p>

"Just for a little while, I promise."

Yuzu looks up at him with watery eyes and sees right past the half-truth.

"Why?"

"I need a change of scenery, a fresh start." That's true enough, actually. "I'll visit you often; you won't even notice I'm gone."

"Ichi-nii," she sobs, attaching to him like a polyp.

"I'm sorry, Yuzu."

His farewell with Karin went similarly. Only his crazy dad managed not to cry, though it was a close thing. This isn't the first time Ichigo has had to leave town for a while. His family is as used to it as anyone could be in this situation. Doesn't change the fact that he feels like an asshole.

"It's okay," she sniffles into his shirt. "I know you wouldn't go if you didn't have to. I'll miss you, Ichigo!"

"Yeah. Me too."

Emotion overtakes him for the fiftieth time today and it is all he can do not to join her in tears. With a final hug, he gently disengages, waves goodbye to her young husband, and walks out the door. He makes it to his car before the smothering sorrow drags pathetic sobs from him. Ichigo leans his head against the steering wheel and breathes past it. Only once he has it under control does he start his engine and drive away.

His phone's GPS app guides him out of the city. Across bridges, over hills, through tunnels, and into another town. But he doesn't stop there. Ichigo keeps driving. He doesn't have a particular destination in mind but he wants to be far enough away that he will not be easily found. He drives until his stomach growls in spite of its roiling state.

Pulling over at a gas station, Ichigo takes out his phone as he fuels up. He has four missed calls and two voice messages from Uryuu. Ichigo clenches his jaw as he struggles with the urge to hear the man's voice one last time. Instead, he throws his phone against the concrete hard enough to shatter it into a dozen pieces.

It's the best farewell that he is going to get for the only person he ever fell in love with.

* * *

><p>AN: That's it for now, but there will be a few more chapters to this story, plus a 'pick-your-own epilogue'. I'm writing both a happy end and an intriguing yet sad end because I couldn't decide which way I wanted to go.<p>

Happy Holidays and I'll see you next week! ;D


	13. Without You

Three months after Kurosaki's little disappearing act, Uryuu still has his letter, though he has read it enough times to memorize the cursed thing a thousand times over. He keeps it folded up inside his disused copy of the _Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders_, where no one will ever bother looking. Slipping it out now, Uryuu resolves to incinerate it as a symbol of his intention to move on. He might be a little drunk right now—after a long evening spending too much money at a bar—but he figures he'll feel the same way in the morning anyway.

"Is that it?" Orihime breathlessly asks, walking up behind him. "Kurosaki-kun's letter…"

"Mn."

"Can I read it?"

"Sure," he laughs, a fickle, angry sound. "No, actually, I'll read it to you."

"You don't have to—"

"'Dear Uryuu'," he begins in a mockery of the man's lower register. "'I can't apologize enough for letting you wake up alone after what we had that night. You showed me something truly beautiful and I repaid you by running like a coward. Truth is I'm not ready for this. All my relationships have been shallow at best, or meaningless at worst. You deserve better than me. Please don't look for me. Goodbye, Ichigo'."

"Oh, Uryuu..."

He had managed aloof and apathetic throughout. Right up until he hears the piteous waver in her voice. Uryuu flounders in the tide of that familiar heartbreak and lets her hold him as he gasps, struggling against the pain in his chest.

"I loved him," he admits aloud for the first time, whispering into her fragrant auburn hair. "I _loved_ _him_."

"I know. I'm so sorry."

"That idiot!" Uryuu pulls away to meet her eyes as he says, "It's all bullshit. He fled to protect me. Because that's what he does. It's who he is and I should've seen it coming."

"It's not your fault Kurosaki-kun left," Orihime insists for the _n_th time.

"No. It's my fault he thought he had to leave for my sake. His family must hate me."

"They don't blame you, either."

"You know the funny thing about it? He was so worried about hurting those men who attacked him, but it turns out one was an abusive serial rapist and the other peddled hard drugs to teenagers all across the city—and probably worse things the police were never able to connect to him. Even if they had died instead of just sustaining serious injuries and minor disabling complications, no sane judge would have convicted him. There's a reason no one has dragged him back for a trial!"

Orihime stays quiet for a while. She, like everyone else in town, knows all about it from the news stations and apps. It was a pretty big story. Although the 'victims' provided an identity, no warrants were ever issued for Kurosaki's arrest. His family wasn't even questioned. Most of the articles openly declared him a hero for punishing criminals who kept getting off due to lack of evidence. The few who cried for harsher justice were vastly drowned out by those with praise for this makeshift vigilante.

The look she is giving Uryuu tells him she knows what he is really thinking, though. The real reason he is so bitter and miserable about it all, the reason he is barely beginning to move on months later. Even Yoruichi had refrained from comment when she heard his affair with a patient ended before it properly began. The reason is that he was so prepared to give it all up. Turn in his license and pursue a career in medicine or maybe law. Yoruichi has always told him he thinks like an attorney.

Uryuu would have gladly done it. But Kurosaki selfishly took that choice away from him so he could be a damned martyr. He took Uryuu's heart with him, cliché as that sounds. As soon as he understood Kurosaki wasn't coming back, a part of him withered away right then and there. He still can't bring himself to drive down the man's old street.

"Let's burn it."

"Yeah."

* * *

><p>Ichigo catches a flash of sleek, slanted black hair and rectangular glasses across the room and promptly drops his metal clipboard. He barely hears it clatter loudly to the floor but the Uryuu look-alike turns to inspect the sudden noise, along with most of the room. Of course it's not him, he berates himself as he bends to pick it up. No one is dumb enough to keep looking for someone after <em>half a year<em> when they never really dated to begin with. Especially not Uryuu, who easily has the intelligence of five Ichigos.

"What's up, Ichigo? Spot a ghost?"

His floor supervisor, Hirako Shinji, sidles up to stand beside him. Wearing a white coat over scrubs matching Ichigo's, he offers a placid smile. Shinji was the first friend he made after he started working at this hospital. He also referred him to the therapist who has managed not to fuck him up worse than he already was.

"Sort of. False alarm, though."

"You look pretty tired, kid. Maybe you should call it a night?"

"I'm fine. Just thought I saw someone I used to know."

"One of these days I'll get you to tell me all about that sordid past of yours," Shinji warns with a teasing wink. "It's a slow night in the ER and you've been here over ten hours. Go ahead and clock out. See you on Monday, yeah?"

"Sure."

He knows better than to argue once Shinji makes up his mind about something. And if Ichigo is honest, he could use some extra shut-eye. Lately his nightmares have gotten worse, keeping him up a few times this week alone. His doctor wants to know all about them but he is nowhere near ready to talk about Uryuu with her. Unohana-sensei is gentle and wise like the ultimate mother-figure with an undercurrent of fierce strength but even she can't heal the hole he's ripped inside himself. No one but Uryuu could and he's the one person Ichigo can't bear to see.

Every day he still thinks about Uryuu. Wonders how he's doing. Hopes Uryuu isn't still angry with him—though he would deserve it. He can't count the number of times he has almost begged one of his sisters or close friends to find out about him. Ichigo needs to know that he's all right. That his tactless fumblings haven't hindered Uryuu's happiness in any way. Yet, he knows better than to crack Pandora's box; asking about him once would only be the beginning. So he lives in ignorance despite the agony of its consequence.

"Welcome home," his roommates mindlessly low as he shuffles into the house with the usual greeting.

Kensei and Love battle each other on the Xbox while Rose flips through a glossy magazine. Ichigo grabs a bottle of beer from the fridge and plops down next to them in the living room. Kensei looks askance at him between matches, reading his mood. As Ichigo's 'sponsor' of sorts, he has the duty of making sure his mental state remains stable. None of them knows the details, but Ichigo made it clear before he moved in that he is being treated for a complicated condition...and everything that could entail.

"You're back early."

"Shinji cut me loose; slow day at the hospital."

"Hn," Kensei grunts, letting it slide.

"Maybe you should turn in early," mumbles Rose without glancing up from his pages. "You look exhausted."

"Yeah, I might."

"You having those nightmares again, Ichigo?"

He glares at Love out of habit. If there's one person in the group of pseudo-big brothers who always asks stupidly invasive questions, it's that guy. Ichigo knows he means well, though.

"Something like that."

"Who's 'Uryuu'?"

Everyone stiffens as those two words bring on a massive cloud of tension, settling thick and crackling over the room.

"We can't help overhearing..." Rose weakly explains as he lowers his magazine. "Thin walls."

"And you shout sometimes," Kensei adds. The game goes ignored, left to time out as three pairs of eyes watch him.

Ichigo sighs, spitting curt phrases like bitter seeds. "No one. Doesn't matter. Forget it."

Standing, he goes to shut himself in his room for the night but Kensei stops him with a grip on his forearm.

"He's not 'no one', man. You don't call out a person's name like that if they don't matter to you."

"You can trust us, Ichigo," Love reminds him. "We've all been through awful shit. We know what it's like."

Ichigo wants to shout at them. Wants to ask, 'You know what it's like to love someone more than you want to live because they _make you want to live_ for the first time in your whole life? You know what it's like to realize you can never be with them because you'd only drag them down to your level?' Instead, he takes a steadying breath and releases it.

Meets Kensei's shrewd gaze as he says, "I don't want to talk about it right now."

"When will you, then? It's been over six months since you moved here and every other night you still dream about him! It's time, Ichigo. Before it gets worse."

"Lay it on us," Rose agrees.

"We're excellent listeners," nods Love.

Kensei is right; Ichigo has been dealing with this ever since he moved to this city and will probably keep struggling with it well after he eventually moves on. These guys have been there for him whenever he could possibly need them. They may be a rowdy, rag-tag bunch but their hearts are always in the right place. If there was anyone here he could trust with this, it's them. He just doesn't see how talking about it will help. Rose can't teach him how to romance Uryuu back into his life. Kensei couldn't tell him how to fight off his inner demons. Love won't be able to kill his lifetime of pain with humor. Nothing will change!

Still, Ichigo knows they will only keep asking day after day until he moves out or just confesses already. It'll only get worse now and he's not quite ready to leave yet. So, with a concession that translates to a stoop in his shoulders, Ichigo sinks back onto the couch and stares at the floor.

"Fine. I'll tell you this once and then I don't want to talk about it again. Got it?" The three men nod solemnly as Ichigo swallows back a lump at the memory those words trigger. Being in Uryuu's office, discussing his mother, seems like such a long time ago…almost a year, in fact. "Uryuu was my shrink back home. He single-handedly transformed me over the course of about five months from a rotten egg into a golden prince by comparison."

"So he was like a mentor?" Rose asks, leaning forward too intently. "A father-figure?"

"He's twenty-six—twenty-seven now, I guess—so not really a father-figure."

"Young!" Love and Kensei gasp in tandem.

"Uryuu's a genius."

"So if he was your psychiatrist and he made you all better, why do you shout his name in your sleep?" Kensei is the one to breach the tricky subject at its heart after a brief pause. "Why did you leave?"

"Because I'm a fucking moron." They exchange grave looks as Ichigo grits his teeth and shuts his eyes in shame. "He wasn't just my shrink. But he wasn't _supposed_ to be more than my shrink."

"That is a no-no," Love agrees. "Bad ju-ju for the egg-heads."

"It's about safety, dumbass," Kensei shuts him up. "No one would trust doctors if they used their power and influence to seduce their patients."

"Were you…victimized?" Rose almost whispers. Ichigo laughs wryly at that, startling the man.

"No, nothing like that. If anything, _I _seduced _him_." Thinking of Shirosaki making overtures not once but twice in Uryuu's office, Ichigo frowns. Then, going as far as to drag himself to Uryuu's home and—He cuts those thoughts off before they set him shaking again. "Uryuu said he couldn't do it and I respected that. But then he told me he returned my feelings and I lost my head."

"He cared for you, too?" Scooting close, Love raises his eyebrows at that. "What did you do?"

"I told him to be my doctor and nothing else."

"What?" Kensei barks, angrily rounding on him. "Why would you do that? Was it just a game? See if you could get him to fall for you?"

"Of course not," Ichigo snarls back. "I was already in love with him by then!"

Silence falls over the group at the admission he hadn't intended to make. Ichigo releases a tremulous breath and forces his body to relax a bit. The beer is buzzing in his blood, sending it rushing to his brain, and he worries he will say too much instead of too little for once.

"You were protecting him, weren't you?" comes Rose's quiet revelation. Ichigo gives a faint nod and they alternate sighing and groaning for various reasons. "Oh, kid…"

"So what was the tipping point?" Love just has to know, "What made you skip town?"

"That's personal."

"You slept with him, didn't you?" Kensei rumbles with unmasked disdain. "Knowing what it would mean to him. That's why you can't let it go."

"What the fuck do you know about it, huh?"

"More than you'd think."

They stare each other down for a moment. Until Ichigo's guilt crashes over him in a sharp, icy wave. The reason he still has nightmares about Uryuu is because of that guilt. Perpetually growing, never receding. It looms over Ichigo every minute of every day alongside its companion, the gaping pit of loss that is his hopeless love for the man.

"I made a fucking stupid mistake, all right?" he rasps past the lump in his throat. "I took advantage of his kindness. The only way I could ensure it ended there was by removing myself from the picture."

"Don't tell me you just vanished," Rose demands, aghast. "What that poor man must think…"

"I wrote him a letter. Convinced him I just didn't have my shit together enough to have a relationship." Ichigo shakes his head, recalling how hard it had been to write those lies to Uryuu despite knowing they were better than the truth. "That way he would think I'm an asshole and wouldn't give up his life to search for me."

"Guess it worked," Love states. "It's not like you're hiding well, staying in the same country, keeping your real name, and all that."

"That guy didn't buy your bullshit, Ichigo," Kensei heatedly interjects. "If he's as smart as you say he is he knows you better than you know yourself. Of course he'd see through your dumb letter and your shitty ploy. He didn't come after you because he respects _your _choice this time. But you know what, kid? You really are a fucking moron if you think that's what he wanted."

"So you're an expert on strangers' secret thoughts?" Ichigo challenges, irritation rising in place of sadness for once. "How would you know what Uryuu—"

"You said he admitted he liked you back, right? Before you slept with him."

"Yeah, and?"

"That was his way of saying, 'I'll give up my career for you,' because he knew you couldn't ask him to. Then you went and told him to stick with it instead of pursuing you. What gives you the right to pick for him?"

"You don't get it! It's not just about him being my shrink and the chance that he'd lose his license." Vision blurring with a combination of rage and sorrow, Ichigo leaps up to glare at them all at once. "I ruin everything I touch! Twenty-eight years and I've never been with anyone like Uryuu. He's too good, too precious to be subjected to a fuck-up like me. I couldn't take the chance that I'd hurt him. I couldn't live with it!"

"When was the last time you…committed a crime?" Rose softens the question with a euphemism. "Lost control? Lashed out at anyone at all?"

"I don't know. What difference does it make?"

"I think what Rose is asking is how do you know you haven't been cured?" clarifies Love with an unusually serious tone. "If your doctor helped as much as you say, maybe you're safe to be around again."

That hadn't occurred to Ichigo. Shocked at the idea, he considers it.

The last time he had an episode was the night he fought Aizen and Gin. But he had worked with his alters rather than allowing them to supersede his judgment. He hadn't lost control, he had retaken it. Since then the others have barely been a hint in the dredges of his consciousness. Ichigo can tell they are still there, however, and as long as they remain the threat will, as well.

Besides, given his history old enemies could always fall back into his life unexpectedly. Renji told him that Aizen and Ichimaru survived that night and he has mixed feelings about it. Not least of all being that Ichigo realizes they could still track him down for revenge. Worse, they could go after his friends and family. Admittedly, he was relieved that he hadn't actually committed murder in his delirium, but if that means his loved ones are endangered he would almost rather they had died.

"It doesn't matter. None of it fucking matters," Ichigo grumbles at them. "What's done is done and I'm not going back."

"Why not?" Honestly baffled, Love curls a corner of his mouth in confusion. "It's not like you killed his pet and totaled his car. You made a poor decision but your intentions were good. If he's as awesome as you say he'll definitely forgive y—"

"I'm going to bed."

"Wait, Ichigo," they collectively call in his direction as he pushes past them and stomps down the hall.

He slams the door and collapses onto his futon like old times. Only this time it isn't because he is riddled with pointless depression brought about by chemical misfires and recurrent anxiety. This time it is because he has a legitimate reason to mourn the state of his life. Uryuu was so much more to him than the psychiatrist who saved Ichigo from himself after so many years spent suffering. He was more than a close friend and a brief lover. Uryuu was—is the one person in this world who could make him whole in all the ways that matter.

Ichigo can never have that.

He has thought about it a few times: what it would be like to go back to him. Only a few because he can't bear to rehash it more than that. A few because it wouldn't leave him alone if he shut it out completely. He has thought about what expressions Uryuu would make. The things he might say. What Ichigo would tell him before Uryuu's anger caught up to him and made him slam the door in his face. Ichigo has imagined the pain, the joy of seeing him again after so long. Such a relatively short time made longer by the dragging days he has endured.

Ichigo has even daydreamed about Uryuu finding him here, in this random town. Maybe one reason he didn't bother with a fake name is because part of him was hoping Uryuu would be foolish enough to chase him down after all. He would be so shocked, so full of concern and love for him that he might have a heart attack on the spot.

In the end it's all pointless conjecture. Talking about it, picturing it, wishing for it. It's all meaningless since he knows it can never happen. Uryuu has already forgotten about him. Written Ichigo off as the mercurial hooligan he always was and moved on with some intelligent, worldly guy who will protect him and give Uryuu everything he deserves. Everything Ichigo could never offer.

That's the way it has to be.


	14. Sour and Not-So-Sweet

"So what are you doing this Saturday?" asks a new friend of Uryuu's for the third time this month. "Because I know this sweet little place that makes the best ramen you'll ever have in your life."

Grinning like he already knows the answer, Shiba Kaien leans over Uryuu's microscope and waits for him to look up. As a colleague at this research laboratory, Uryuu has been nothing but polite to all of his coworkers, no matter how much they may resemble a man he would much rather never be reminded of again. Save for a stark difference in hair color, Shiba is the spitting image of Kurosaki in too many ways. It's unsettling.

"I was planning on editing the final report on our latest findings so it will be ready for submission on Monday."

"Come on, Uryuu," as Shiba insists on calling him despite numerous requests for formality, "You can't work on Saturday. Nobody works on Saturday! Come out with me this once; you won't regret it."

Judging by the smoky eyes Shiba is giving him, Uryuu would bet he's right. Especially since Uryuu hasn't been on so much as a date in almost a year. If you could call his evening with Kurosaki a date…which he really shouldn't.

"Unfortunately, I respect this company's guidelines on inter-office fraternization."

"Define: fraternization." Uryuu shoots him a half-hearted glare and Shiba laughs, "No, really. Define it for me, would you?"

"I'm not comfortable with—"

"Look, you've been working here about three months, right? Then you wouldn't know that the higher-ups don't give a damn what us nerds get up to as long as we keep churning out the facts and figures." Shiba turns serious for a moment as he explains, settling onto his forearms to be level with Uryuu. "So all that bullshit from HR about not dating within the lab is just for show. If you ask around you'd learn that there's hardly anyone who hasn't dated somebody here at one point."

"Yes, that does seem to be the trend," he admits as he flips the electron microscope off.

Uryuu had heard rumors in the cafeteria and in the lounges of so-and-so breaking up with whoever due to something inane like fundamental disagreements over favorite theses. He has never heard anyone getting into trouble about it before. That's not the real issue here, however, and he is hesitant to admit it when Shiba would only ask more questions.

"Are you already seeing someone?"

"No, nothing like that."

"Ohhh, I see," Shiba nods with a wry twist of his mouth. "You're not into me but you're too nice to say it. That's cool, Uryuu. No big deal. Forget I said anything."

It would be so much easier to let the man believe it's a lack of interest. Sadly, he isn't that dishonest.

"I find you attractive," Uryuu blurts. Shiba's eyebrows rise until he adds, "And agreeable."

"Okay. But...?"

"I'm still getting over someone."

Shiba eyes him for a moment, contemplating that. Uryuu knows what he is thinking: he's been single at least as long as he has worked here and three months is a long time to mourn the loss of a relationship. Even though he realizes it's foolish Uryuu can't change how he feels. Who falls so deeply in love with someone over the course of about six months and then continues to pine after them for a full year? Particularly since they weren't even boyfriends! It's absurd and Uryuu hates it. Hates it so much he wants to push it all out the window and just go on the stupid date.

"Sorry to hear that."

"Yeah."

"Well, if you ever change your mind, you have my number."

Uryuu nods and offers a weak smile. He watches Shiba leave the lab for the night with an annoying splash of guilt coloring his mood. What he said about finding his associate to be good company was true; Uryuu wouldn't hesitate to accept such a proposal under normal circumstances. Part of him resents Kurosaki for making it impossible to do just that.

Yet, the larger part of him still churns with loss at every wisp of a thought regarding the man. Uryuu is angry—_furious_—at Kurosaki for leaving like he did. More than that, though, he is sad. Although he has moved on to the best of his abilities, even switching careers when the old one reminded him too much of Kurosaki, Uryuu is not happy.

He's beginning to wonder if he ever will be.

* * *

><p>A familiar song guides Uryuu to wakefulness the next morning. He doesn't bother opening his eyes as he reaches for his phone and answers the call. But he does clear his throat before speaking the usual greeting. Orihime's high, soothing voice cheerfully responds. She wants to know if he will join her for lunch in a couple of hours an Uryuu readily agrees.<p>

Until then, he has a few options as to how he will pass the time. Laundry needs to be washed, groceries need to be purchased, and his apartment needs to be cleaned. Alternatively, his research paper could use some attention, as he informed Shiba last night. What he doesn't need to do is spend those two hours moping about how his new job isn't any more fulfilling than his old job no matter how much he tries to tell himself it is. He did enough of that last weekend.

Uryuu spends half an hour on showering and clothing himself. Then he settles onto his sofa and spends the rest of it brooding about his new job.

At Orihime's restaurant, Uryuu slips comfortably into his usual standby persona, blithe as he ever manages. She runs over to hug him when he walks in; he straightens her chef's hat and smiles. The aroma wafting off the plate Orihime sets before him is enticing. Perceptive as ever, she somehow knows exactly what Uryuu is craving before he does. He eats with quiet gratitude while she excitedly fills him in on her week.

"I spent two hours reading about popular sauces last night so I can make all kinds of new pasta dishes." Listing some off on her fingers, Orihime misses the occasional cringe from Uryuu as she counts some truly strange flavors among them. "And Hachigen-san says he'll teach me the new pastry recipe he just learned in France!"

"I can't wait to try it."

"Tomorrow afternoon, I'll bring you some of the first batch," she promises. "Do you have plans tonight?"

"I—not really." Detecting his uncertainty, Orihime gives him the eye until he continues. "Shiba asked me out again."

"Shiba-san from your work?"

"That's the one."

"What did you say?"

"I turned him down…"

"I think you should go."

It is said somberly and with great consideration. This is something they do from time to time. Uryuu has had offers over this past year and he has told Orihime about them when asked. Each time she has gently advised him to accept. Each time he passes she becomes more adamant. To the point that she is now staring him down with a small frown and a soft hand on the back of his.

"Was considering it, actually," Uryuu sighs, leaning back in his seat. "He is persistent."

"It's time."

"If nothing else, it will save me from the monotony of household chores and working on my day off."

"I want to hear all about it when I stop by tomorrow!"

With an energetic flounce, she leaps from her seat and drags him from his. Uryuu is shoved out of the front door after another hug and a well-wish. He ambles numbly down the street as he pulls his phone from his pocket and calls Shiba.

* * *

><p>Hours later, Uryuu pulls up to this magical ramen shop Shiba won't shut up about. He is brimming with equal parts trepidation and excitement, plus a generous dash of sadness. Shiba's friendly, confident smile shifts some of the latter from his mind, though. The man dressed in sleek slacks and a nice shirt looks totally different from his usual white-coat with pocket-protector uniform. The unruly spikes of his black hair have even been lightly tamed with a dab of product. As he draws close, Uryuu smells a hint of expensive cologne.<p>

"Wow, you look amazing, Uryuu," his coworker whistles appreciatively. Shiba comes to stand before him, eyes trailing up his form just leisurely enough to make Uryuu want to blush. "Glad you changed your mind."

"Yeah, well I figured it would be easier to concede now and save myself some trouble later."

Shiba smirks at his quip and holds the door open as Uryuu returns it. Inside, they are led to a private booth near the back of the restaurant. He listens to Shiba closely as the man shares an anecdote about the reproduction habits of mutant paramecium. Towards the end, he realizes it is a joke because Uryuu finds himself smiling in humor. It's more than Shiba has ever won from him and the man grins in success.

So, Uryuu shares some details about himself in return. He answers Shiba's questions honestly, if a bit obliquely at times, and soon they have established an easy rapport. Their server comes and goes, returning with drinks and then their meals. Shiba chuckles around his noodles as Uryuu tells a modest joke of his own. By the time the food is consumed and the check is paid, Uryuu is warm with more than one type of satiation.

The entire night goes so well.

It would be suspicious if not for the presence of the negative tag on Uryuu's mood. Beneath the veneer of casual amusement and unexpected pleasure runs the perpetual undercurrent of doubt. That obstinate pocket of his mind that reminds him who he is and what he really wants at all times. Its walls are plastered with images of Kurosaki, filled with the sounds of his voice, and scented with the strains of his essence. It is not a shout but a whisper in the chorus of Uryuu's thoughts.

Perhaps sensing this unease, Shiba doesn't pressure him to go for drinks. He doesn't even ask Uryuu back to his place. They walk out to their cars and Uryuu meets his open gaze. Shiba is the type of man who will be patient when necessary. He would have to be, working with bacterial cultures for a living. It serves him well now as Uryuu searches for the words amidst a mélange of confusing sentiments.

"I think this is just what I needed," he candidly states with a small smile. "I haven't been on a date in a while—"

"Too long, probably."

"Probably. It's been...refreshing. Thank you."

"Anytime," Shiba smiles back and Uryuu can tell this is as close as he is going to come to asking for another date. "Seriously."

Uryuu opens his mouth to suggest it when he sees a flash of movement over Shiba's left shoulder. Peering beside the building into the dim slice of space beside it, he makes out the general shape of a person in the shadows. Noticing his focus, Shiba follows his gaze but the shape oozes away before he turns. He looks at Uryuu with a raised eyebrow.

"Wait for me here a moment, would you?"

"Uryuu?"

"I'll be right back.

He leaves Shiba standing beside his car. Striding purposefully towards the narrow alley, Uryuu follows the refuse-dotted path and peers into the darkness clustered on the other side of a Dumpster. Beside it lurks a thin man with silver hair and slatted eyes. He steps out as Uryuu approaches.

"Whadda we got 'ere?"

"Excuse me?"

"That's Gin's accent for you," murmurs a voice to Uryuu's right, directly behind him. "Annoying affectation at best. Utterly unintelligible at worst."

Side-stepping gracefully from the one behind him, Uryuu tenses as he recognizes the name, then their faces. Ichimaru Gin and Aizen Sousuke. He pulls both of them into view as he backs up towards the opposite wall. Easily recognizing the scars inflicted by Kurosaki's attack hacked ropily into their skin, Uryuu recalls a list of their injuries to match them to their indicators. Ichimaru had lost the lower quadrant of his left lung in addition to sustaining a cracked cranium, broken radius, and numerous cuts and bruises. Aizen had sustained a severely damaged liver with pancreatic complications as well as several deep slices and contusions. It was less than they really deserved.

"I don't believe we've met," Uryuu coolly responds. "How can I help you gentlemen?

"Don't pretend y'ain't seen us on the news," Ichimaru sneers as he steps closer. The two are cautiously boxing him into a corner in preparation for what will doubtless be a physical attack. "It took us a while to find ya, though, seein' as ya weren't tied to that Kurosaki kid anywhere public."

"We had to bribe a few people to even learn your family name."

"And that was after someone blabbed about ya bein' the brat's friend in the first place."

"So imagine our glee when you come crawling over to our little trap all on your own."

"Trap?" Uryuu puffs a bravado-rich laugh. "Two men in an alley is your idea of a trap?"

"It was enough to slice Kurosaki a couple dozen new'uns," murmurs Ichimaru. The amusement is swiped from Uryuu at the reminder. "'Course we'll prob'ly do ya in jus' one or two."

"You are the first one on the list, as the furthest from his sphere of 'loved ones'. We have a lot more to get to and the night is so young."

Uryuu almost laughs again at that for a different reason. These two idiots have no clue what kind of relationship he had with Kurosaki, much less who they are dealing with. He hasn't spotted weapons thus far but he will assume they are carrying concealed. Uryuu is unarmed and unperturbed. He has never lost a fight and doesn't intend to start now. Still, two mentally unhinged, violent individuals bent on petty revenge are not to be underestimated.

"I haven't spoken with Kurosaki-san in over a year."

"Thirteen and a half months, to be exact," Aizen nods as if he has all the facts. "Since the boy skipped town like the coward he is."

Scowling, Uryuu bites back the retort he wants to snarl at the accusation.

"Let's jus' get 'im, Sousuke. I'm bored."

"Talking with your prey is overrated," the man imperiously agrees.

They reach under their hems to pull out short knives

"Hey, what the hell are you guys doing!?"

Shiba's exclamation at the end of the alley gets their attention and Uryuu uses the distraction. Two steps in and he swings a leg against the back of Ichimaru's knee, easily shifting the tall man's momentum before he can regain it. Before he hits the ground, Uryuu swivels to deliver two hard jabs to Aizen's solar plexus and throat. Then he switches back to Ichimaru, kneeling in the dirt. Uryuu backhands him with a fist to his jaw and knocks his head into the Dumpster with a resonant bang. Aizen is sputtering on all fours so Uryuu kicks the man's elbow in the wrong direction. The wrenching snap is masked by the man's hoarse shout.

It's all over in a matter of seconds and Uryuu dips down to check their pulses, just in case, before addressing Shiba's shell-shocked demeanor. He whips out his phone and dials as he walks over to him and visibly checks for signs of excessive distress.

"I need an ambulance for two men," Uryuu tells the dispatch, rattling of the address and hanging up before giving his information. He shoves the memory of that same action last year to the back of his mind as he focuses on his friend. "Are you all right, Shiba?"

"Y-yeah—hey, that's my line! Uryuu, those guys could've killed you!"

"They're not as dangerous as they seem," he dismisses with a disdainful glance to the passed-out pair. "All talk and no real skill."

"Still, that was nuts! Where did you learn to fight like that?"

They spend the next ten minutes waiting for the ambulance to come and trying not to squirm from awkwardness. Secretive as he tends to be, Uryuu isn't comfortable telling Shiba all about how he used to be a psychiatrist for ex-convicts who would snap sometimes, attempting to take their anger out on him. Doesn't want to get into how he had sought power growing up because his father was such an overbearing slave-driver that he never truly felt good enough for anyone. Isn't about to admit he was in a relationship with someone who occasionally got rough enough to leave bruises that Uryuu ended up returning—with interest—to the kinky pleasure of both parties.

So they wait.

When the ambulance and police cars arrive, they spend the next two hours explaining events and giving statements. The disabled assailants are revived, treated, and arrested to their avid distaste. Ichimaru screams unintelligible profanities until he is shut into the secure confines of a cruiser alongside his stoic partner. Uryuu leaves Yoruichi, still his lawyer despite the change in career, a voicemail as the cavalcade pulls away at last.

"Still eager to see me again?" he half-jokes, attempting to lighten the mood.

"You're kind of a mess, aren't you?"

The comment carries the cadence of a joke but Shiba's smile is strained. Uryuu knows a polite rejection when he sees one. Unsurprisingly, he is not disappointed about it. Shiba is a great man but he is not Kurosaki. He is nothing like him.

"See you on Monday?"

"Yeah."

The chill silence of his loft is a welcome reprieve from the noisy heat outside. Uryuu toes off his shoes and drags his feet over his carpet as he collapses onto his beloved couch. He is so worn out that he doesn't respond to Nel's concerned nudging against his arm. Pulling off his glasses, Uryuu rubs at his eyes and sighs long and slow. It has been another one of those weeks quaintly punctuated with a little social awkwardness and misplaced aggression. Just enough to fit the norm of his existence.

He contacted Kurosaki's father on the drive home to let him know about Ichimaru and Aizen's mention of attacking the man's family and friends. Only as a precaution in spite of their incarceration. Talking with him sent Uryuu right back to those days following Kurosaki's exodus. When he had called everyone he could think of to track the man down before it was too late. Before he understood that it was Kurosaki's choice.

His hands are shaking. A glance down at them confirms it. Also, one of his knuckles is split from the force of cracking into the dense bone of a human mandible. Dried blood snakes down his middle finger and ends at the cuticle. Uryuu knows he should get up and clean it.

Nel steps into his lap and peers up at him with a calm question.

"I'm okay. Really. I'll be okay."

Her stalwart gaze calls him out on his bullshit. He doesn't have the energy to argue with a cat at the moment so he settles for petting her into complacency. Soothing purrs lead him into a semi-trance state, the one preceding sleep. Uryuu readily accepts that he will be passing out on his sofa once again. He has had trouble sleeping in his own bed since—Uryuu cuts off that tendril of thought before it takes malicious hold.

Eyelids drooping, he feels the rhythm of his respiration lengthen and sift shallowly. His heart slows, body cooling as metabolism lowers. The phrases and images in his mind slide into abstraction. Snatches of video and mismatched audio play over the fading backdrop of his reality. Pieces of dreams swoop in and Uryuu's last conscious wisp of thought is concern for Kurosaki's sisters.

* * *

><p>AN: Final chapter will be up tomorrow! I might also end up posting both epilogues tomorrow, too.<p> 


	15. Going Forward May Not Be the Answer

Uryuu startles awake to the sound of knocking on his door. Sluggish in his half-sleeping state, he stumbles across the room to pull it open in aggravation. He is gearing up to give whoever it is a verbal lashing for visiting so late. Then a patch of unmistakable color resolves in his indistinct view. He blinks a few times, squints for good measure. Uryuu shakes his head as the visitor looks on with a pained expression.

"_Kurosaki_?" he hisses, disbelieving.

"Hey, Ishida," the man murmurs in response.

Gripping the door frame for support, Uryuu swiftly locks everything down before it can surge up and strangle him where he stands. It takes him nearly a minute before he can speak again.

"What are you doing here?"

"I—I'm sorry, I—"

Kurosaki's voice breaks on something so simple and his hands come up, pleading, as his head lowers. Uryuu bites his lip and shuts his eyes against it. He wants to pretend this is a nightmare. That he's still asleep and none of this is the least bit real. He can wake up anytime and this will be just another tick mark on his list of torturous dreams. A memory of that night transformed into a beast out for his blood.

But there is nothing vague or indefinite about what he is feeling right now. Smothering and sharp, a pain in his chest so real he almost reaches up to check for the wound. Fingers tighten on the frame and Uryuu's breaths come fast and light. It makes his voice too small.

"You can't be here."

"I know," Kurosaki chokes, turning shining brown eyes upon him. "I know. I'll leave. I just had to make sure you were all right. I'm sorry."

And Kurosaki does leave. Shoulders slumped, he pads down the stairs and lifts a hand to his face. Uryuu can't see it clearly from here. His glasses are on the table.

"Wait." Kurosaki freezes halfway down the staircase, not turning around and not continuing either. "You heard about Aizen and Ichimaru?"

"What?" he cries, jerking back to look up at him. "How did you know about that?"

"I just came from talking with the police about it, though I don't see how you could've—"

"They attacked you!?" Running back upstairs, Kurosaki flicks frantic eyes over Uryuu. "Are you all right? Renji said he'd heard they were making their move soon but this—"

"Why does Abarai know about their plans?"

"I asked him to keep an eye out for anything," Kurosaki admits after he is satisfied Uryuu is unharmed. "I knew those bastards would try something eventually. I couldn't let them hurt you. I'm such an idiot! How could I get here late? What if they'd—"

"You've been keeping tabs on us," Uryuu tonelessly states. The revelation should have occurred to him before. Of course Kurosaki would never forsake his family and friends when he has left potential threats in his wake. "What else has Abarai been relaying to you?"

"Nothing. Nothing about you…I couldn't bear to ask."

Considering that, Uryuu's indignation ebbs somewhat. Kurosaki is giving him his patented kicked-puppy look that has always made Uryuu want to reach for him. His hand twitches with the urge even now. Catching the miniscule movement, Kurosaki's gaze snaps to his bloody knuckle, eyes widening. He steps forward and Uryuu doesn't have the presence of mind to step back. Kurosaki's fingers close gently around his wrist and lift his hand to inspect the injury.

Uryuu's reproach is stolen from his lungs on a rush of emotions at the touch. The invisible knife perpetually lodged in his heart twists brutally, unexpectedly. Uryuu is gasping against the pain, yanking his hand free and tripping over the lip in his foyer's floor on his retreat.

"Uryuu!"

The sound of his name in that voice is the final shove. Uryuu falls over the literal and metaphorical precipices. Kurosaki kneeling beside him, full of worry and residual affection. Memories of falling in love with this man assail him. Memories of what they shared here that night so long ago—so recently—cut into him. Memories of the countless hours he has spent in regret utterly destroy him.

"Get out," he sobs the instant hot, stinging anguish breaks past the floodgates and spills onto his cheeks. "Leave!"

Kurosaki doesn't hesitate. He sees Uryuu's tears and he pulls him into a crushing hug. Uryuu's hands go to the man's arms and grip the flesh there, wanting to push him off but he ends up tugging him closer. Stilted breaths interspersed with piteous sobs shake out of him amidst the broken ramblings of Kurosaki into the hollow of his throat.

"I'm so sorry, Uryuu. I never should've left you like that! Every second since I've regretted it, felt like such a jackass because I didn't know how else to keep you safe." Kurosaki's quick gasp is taken solely to continue his monologue. "This year has felt like a decade without you. You mean so much to me! Can you ever forgive me? Uryuu, please don't cry. Please. I love you so much. I love you so please don't cry anymore. Gods, _I'm so sorry_…"

Part of him laughs at all those weeks spent convincing himself he was over Kurosaki in the important ways. Part of him rebels against the idea of allowing disillusionment now. Most of him is just unspeakably grateful to have the man back in his arms, even for a moment. The soft rub of his bright hair. Subtle scent of his skin. Warm weight of him against Uryuu. Smooth timbre of his earnest voice. Hands cradling the back of his head and the curve of his spine.

"Ichigo," he fights past a sob to say.

"I'm here, Uryuu," comes the immediate response. "I'm right here."

Happy to hold him for as long as it takes, Ichigo's grip stays firm to his frame. Soon the tears dry and Uryuu's shaking ceases. Ichigo pulls back only far enough to meet his eyes. Uryuu is not surprised to see the telltale tracks trailing Ichigo's face as well. He looks at Uryuu with enough emotion to steal his breath all over again.

Then he kisses Uryuu like it's the first and the last time all at once, letting slip an urgent whine when it is returned. Ichigo's fingers push into his hair and hold him steady. Thumbs graze at the edges of his temples and Uryuu is sure his heart will burst any second now. It has to because it is too full too quickly and there's not enough room in its emaciated chambers for this much love. This much meaning.

They remain this way for countless minutes until their lips are chapped, the pain has subsided, and fatigue begins to settle back in. Uryuu thinks about the short nap he had and how his body is equally eager to continue it or forego it as long as he can stay like this. But he knows time never actually stands still. Reluctantly, he pulls away. Ichigo seems to sense his thoughts and stands to pull him up. They stare at each other for a long moment before Ichigo eventually speaks.

"Can I make you some tea?"

Nodding, Uryuu fights a smile at the gesture. The last time he was here Uryuu had made him tea after tending his wounds. It's funny how they keep coming full-circle in the strangest ways. He watches Ichigo walk into the kitchen and listens to him fumble in the cabinets for the necessary tools. Uryuu sinks onto his sofa and takes a second to do a mental assessment. Having just wept for the first time in well over a decade should leave him with a plethora of negative emotions but all he feels is relief-tinged happiness. The warmth of Ichigo's touch lingers.

A few minutes later, he returns to Uryuu's side with two steaming mugs. He sets them on the coffee table to cool. When Ichigo turns to him, his confliction is evident.

"How are you?"

He asks it carefully, almost guiltily. Uryuu knows he doesn't mean right now, at this exact moment. He also knows Ichigo isn't looking for manufactured optimism. So he tells the bold truth.

"Not great," he begins with a small sigh. Ichigo cringes slightly and nods. "Orihime is convinced I'm suffering a continuous nervous breakdown. I've only been on one date this year and that ended in near-disaster. My new job isn't as fulfilling as I'd hoped—"

"New job?"

"I quit psychiatry and started with a genetic research laboratory a few months after you disappeared."

"_Why_? You loved that job!"

"Conjugation is key: I _loved_ it until every single session reminded me of you."

"Shit, Uryuu…"

"It's not that serious," he dismisses. Seeing Ichigo deflate with remorse snuffs whatever resentment he may have had towards the man about it. Uryuu picks up his cup to take careful sips between sentences. "I was never absolutely set on that path to begin with. My father wanted me to be the chief surgeon in his hospital. My grandfather hoped I might be a tailor like him. My mother was an excellent prosecutor. It's not like I never had other choices."

"Yeah, but—"

"Besides, I was prepared to quit the day I visited your apartment. Though I never said so explicitly. Perhaps I should have."

"I couldn't have let you do that for me."

The way Ichigo looks dejectedly towards the ground as he says it pisses Uryuu off. As if Ichigo isn't good enough to warrant a major life change. As if Uryuu is some important idol and Ichigo is just the worthless fan. As if he doesn't understand how much he has healed Uryuu in ways he never imagined possible.

He watches Ichigo sip from his green mug with an anxious little frown. Probably brooding about how he has ruined Uryuu's life. Killed his dream job, stole his innocence, and set a pair of rabid wombats after him for revenge. His fists clench at the audacity. Uryuu isn't some helpless maiden!

"Listen carefully, Ichigo: I'm only going to say this once." The man's eyes flare wide at the angry lilt of his voice and lock onto Uryuu's face. "At no point did you force me into anything. Your influence extended only so far as I allowed it. So don't you _dare_ try to take responsibility for my happiness. Understand?"

For a second Ichigo looks like he wants to argue, but then he thinks better of it and nods.

"If it means anything, I've regretted it every day." His thumbs fidget with the handle of his mug as he gazes into the swirling liquid. "Thought I was going to go insane with shame. I had so many nightmares about…you being hurt or miserable or…"

Swallowing, Ichigo shuts his eyes and forcibly ends that thought. Ichigo looks up at him with sad eyes and Uryuu sees it all. The desolation, the loneliness, the pain. It's easy to spot because Uryuu has seen it on his own face in the mirror countless times.

"I know."

"I made new friends and I got a new job but none of it mattered. Nothing meant a damn thing without you, Uryuu."

The cup in his hand gets slammed to the table, halting whatever words Ichigo was preparing next. Uryuu is shaking again. He wrenches Ichigo's drink from him to shove alongside its twin. When he turns on Ichigo the man is watching him with resignation. Likely expecting a fit or a fight, but Uryuu doesn't feel like raising a fuss or a fist. Still, he squeezes a handful of Ichigo's shirt and yanks him closer.

"Yeah, you fucked up," he growls without much venom, though it hits Ichigo like a shout.

"I know. I'm sor—"

"So you're going to be making it up to me for a while."

"Huh?"

Uryuu allows a smirk to twist his lips before he presses them against Ichigo's.

If he's really honest with himself, Uryuu spent a lot of time being angry and sad, feeling lonelier than ever before in his life. Yet, he also spent a portion of time daydreaming about Ichigo as if he never left. Things like talking over a meal, discussing movies as they watch, going on weekend trips. And yes, Uryuu imagined being with him again like that night, but not like that night. He has no shortage of ideas on the subject.

That's why he doesn't take things slowly now, easing back into familiarity as they otherwise would. Uryuu expresses his needs quite clearly in the kiss he controls, the pressure of exploring palms, and the demanding squeeze of his knees to Ichigo's thighs between them as he nudges into his lap. Ichigo makes hushed sounds of confusion and sets uncertain hands over Uryuu's knees. Uryuu decides he wants them _anywhere_ else than placidly resting on such boring joints.

"Stop holding back, Ichigo," he momentarily relents to snap. "Do you intend to keep torturing me?"

"N-no, I just—"

"Then _touch me_."

Hands braced on Ichigo's shoulders, Uryuu stares hard, conveying with an expression what Ichigo isn't understanding from his words. He stares back, confusion ebbing in favor of something more instinctual. Finally Ichigo seems to get it. They rip off each other's shirts before reengaging in a wild kiss, fingers curling and skating over firm flesh. Uryuu shudders at the blunt nails carving shallowly into his back. He repays Ichigo by tugging at his hair to expose his throat. A trick Shirosaki once used has him groaning against Uryuu's teeth sinking there.

Uryuu arches to reach for Ichigo's pants, trailing loose fingers along the hardness he finds. Unlike Shirosaki, he doesn't wait for permission to unzip and retrieve the erection within. Ichigo groans a sloppy string of curses as Uryuu touches and tugs. He doesn't get to tease long before Ichigo is shifting him sideways to sprawl across the couch. Uryuu smiles at the feeling of wet kisses being painted down his sternum and stomach. Then he bites his lip and snaps his eyes closed because Ichigo wants to kiss something else entirely.

Multitasking most impressively, Ichigo removes Uryuu's slacks while licking hot circles around the head of his cock. Uryuu would be happy to help if he wasn't so preoccupied with holding himself back already. But Ichigo seems eager to see him lose it as soon as possible, sucking Uryuu down and moaning thrilling vibration against him. Gripping his hips for stability, Ichigo begins to bob his head and attack in earnest.

"_Ichigo_, wait—I'm too close," Uryuu pants, twisting the edge of a cushion in a desperate grip. Ichigo doesn't heed him; if anything, he seems to go faster. "I-I'm going to—A-_aahn_!"

Pressure explodes in his chest, hitting him from bleary brain to tingling toes. Uryuu rides his orgasm over two startling waves as Ichigo leads him through it. When it tapers to a buzzing end, he struggles to blink his eyes open and see Ichigo's smug grin. He crawls up Uryuu's limp body and nuzzles into his neck.

"How's that for making it up to you?"

"It's a start," he murmurs, feeling a smile tugging at his mouth. "But I think you just stole the last of my energy."

"Don't worry: I won't let you sleep just yet."

"Is that so?"

Uryuu believes it. He watches Ichigo stand and lets himself be pulled up as well. Stepping close to initiate a calmer kiss, he pushes Ichigo's open jeans and unnecessary boxers down his legs to step out of. Then Uryuu takes his hand to lead the way to his bedroom, flipping on the light as he goes. Once there, he guides Ichigo to sit at the edge of his bed and kneels in front of him.

"Wait, you don't have—"

"Shut up and let me show you how it's done," Uryuu says, smirking as he shoves Ichigo to lean back on his elbows. "While your technique is certainly effective, I'd say mine is more _methodical_."

Before Ichigo can argue, he dips down to lap at the warm fluid collecting at the tip. One hand steadies while the other palms his heavy sac, and Ichigo hisses as his knees fall open to either side. Uryuu takes his time. Starting with a teasing press of lips while looking right into Ichigo's lust-clouded eyes. He moves on to light suction and short, gentle strokes where his mouth doesn't yet reach. Soon a slithering tongue joins in. Then he begins to swallow him down bit by bit. Ichigo's mouth parts to make way for rough breaths and low moans, fists rustling the blanket. All the while Uryuu greedily watches the way Ichigo completely unravels for him.

"Uryuu," he begs without the words. Ichigo's shaking arms give out and drop him to the mattress. His spine arches as his eyes roll back. "_Uryuu_!"

He takes Ichigo all the way through it, not letting up until the shivers stop. Collapsing into his arms, Uryuu kisses across his shoulder and up his neck to the hollow under his chin. Although he is half-aroused again from seeing and hearing Ichigo like that, Uryuu isn't disappointed when his eyes remain closed. Instead, he focuses on the ebbing tide of his breathing and the reassuring heat of his skin.

"Goodnight, Ichigo," he whispers and starts to reach for the covers. Strong hands stop him and hold fast.

"Are you kidding? I told you I'm not letting you sleep yet." Suddenly Ichigo's eyes are sharply focused on his. "If you thought I'd be satisfied with that much after being apart for so long…"

"Well, it is late and we've both had a stressful day," Uryuu says purely to play Devil's Advocate. "And after a blow job like that, I figured you wouldn't have the strength to continue."

"Ha-ha," he intones with fake annoyance. "It takes more than a spectacular orgasm to satisfy me, Uryuu."

"Fortunately for you."

"Fortunately for _you_," Ichigo corrects, bracing himself over Uryuu to pull him into another long kiss. "Tell me you have lube around here somewhere."

"I might…or it could be expired."

Groaning at that, Ichigo reluctantly lets him up to search for it. Uryuu comes back a few minutes later smelling like soap and carrying a small bottle.

"We're in luck."

"Twice lucky," Ichigo agrees and pulls Uryuu into his lap. Sniffing him, "Did you shower?"

"Only where it matters."

"Clever man."

Ichigo takes the bottle and guides Uryuu to lie on the bed, kissing along his chest aimlessly as he makes good use of the precious substance. Even though he has had to wait far too long for this, Ichigo can't bear to rush it. He wants to draw every last second out as long as possible, wants to remember every last facet of this experience. The slide of his fingers into Uryuu, the way he can't keep his back from arching into it. Legs shifting restlessly across the sheets as he rolls his head and licks his lips. All the quiet sounds of encouragement and pleasure he makes for Ichigo.

Mouth travelling down, Ichigo takes a moment to appreciate the manifestation of Uryuu's desire for him. It's the prettiest dick he's ever seen and Ichigo cheerily tells him as much. Uryuu's flustered denial gets cut short as he twists in at just the right angle, hitting the hidden gem that makes his entire body jerk. Ichigo leans forward to mimic the assertive motion of his fingers with his tongue. The taste of Uryuu's insistent moans urges him to move on from such leisurely torment.

"Enough, Ichigo," he breaks away to pant. Impatient for more, Uryuu abruptly pushes him down and straddles his hips. "I may be out of practice but I have done this before. There's no need to take all night. Or were you having so much fun you forgot what comes next?"

"Guilty."

Smiling crookedly up at him, Ichigo brushes some of the fluid black locks spilling across Uryuu's face. Soft eyelashes graze the side of his thumb on a slow blink. And those clear blue eyes never looked warmer than when they lock onto Ichigo's now. Uryuu braces one hand against his chest for stability and uses the other to guide Ichigo inside. They both sigh at the hot, steady slide.

Uryuu starts off steadily, settling into a carefully measured pace that Ichigo swiftly starts to interrupt with off-beat thrusts of his own. Rather than annoyance, Uryuu seems to appreciate this signature bit of chaos, considering the way his eyes fall shut and stay that way. Ichigo plants a firm grip to his hips and uses it to further influence the pace. Soon Uryuu is leaning back, curving his spine and exposing his neck. Unable to resist such an offering, Ichigo sits up to clamp his mouth to a fluttering pulse point.

This slight shift in position has Uryuu crying out and grasping tightly to his upper arms. Ichigo feels the fine tremors race across his skin like warning aftershocks. Entranced, he carefully rocks into Uryuu and watches closely as he loses all composure. Uryuu's breathing becomes ragged, sweating lightly, eyes going glassy even as they try to stay on Ichigo. The longer he watches, the faster he climbs, and Ichigo nibbles at Uryuu's collar bone to distract himself from how amazing it feels.

"Ichigo," he gasps. It's all he needs to understand what Uryuu is asking for.

"I know." Supporting him with strong arms, Ichigo sets him on his back and hooks Uryuu's legs around his waist. "Me too. Not gonna last long, Uryuu."

It's easy to find the perfect angle now that he's already done it twice. Ichigo wraps his hands under Uryuu's shoulders and kisses him hard as he starts thrusting harder. Hands press at his hips, smooth down the back of his neck, and sift through his hair. He can feel Uryuu's erection slicking their bellies with proof of his excitement; he can't help moaning at the thought. When Ichigo's pace falters and Uryuu turns from the kiss to let his mouth fall open on a halting shout, reality bursts with something simultaneously blinding and burning. In the best possible way.

And Uryuu is warm in his arms, pressing loose kisses to his chin and cheek, uttering these contented little hums while he waits for Ichigo to recover. Uryuu's eyes are already closed, brow completely relaxed with a serenity that only fantastic sex can provide. They open one last time to meet his and catch the awestruck look Ichigo knows he's wearing. Uryuu smiles.

"Goodnight, Ichigo."

* * *

><p>Uryuu wakes up in increments. He registers warmth and comfort and a steadily diminishing sleepiness that easily gives way to a refreshed consciousness. Feeling whole like he hasn't in far too long. Then Uryuu remembers last night and panic ruins the moment because memories of that night over a year ago cripple him. How it had felt to be there the next morning without Ichigo in his bed. The pain of that rejection, the hollowness from its meaning. It was almost on the same level as losing his grandfather. Worse, in a different way.<p>

But it doesn't last long. Uryuu registers the telltale weight of a strong arm draping his waist and relief pours over him, heavy and chill like wet cement. It drags him back to the moment enough to notice how he is trembling from the adrenaline rush. Taking carefully measured breaths, Uryuu shuts his eyes and calms his heart. Quiets the fearful voices in the back of his mind and tells them to shut the hell up. When he cracks his lids and turns to look over his shoulder, Ichigo is watching him with alert eyes. It makes Uryuu wonder how long the man has been awake. He opens his mouth to ask but the remorseful pinch to Ichigo's brow gives him pause.

"You thought I was gone." It's not a question and Uryuu doesn't answer. "Again. I'm sorry."

"I know."

"That doesn't make it okay."

"No…"

"I'm so sorry, Uryuu," he whispers, leaning in to rest their foreheads together. "If I knew how much it would hurt you I never would've left. Watching you cry last night almost killed me."

"You couldn't have known how I felt about you." Light and forgiving, Uryuu trails fingertips down the arm holding him close. "I didn't even understand it myself until I couldn't see you anymore. Hear your voice or see your face. I missed your smell."

He leans in to take a greedy breath of it from the crook of Ichigo's neck. The man makes a small sound in his throat and suddenly Uryuu is being enveloped in a tight hug from head to toe. Ichigo holds him as if the slightest release in grip would mean disaster. Shocked for a moment, Uryuu relaxes into it and smiles. He starts to laugh a little. Ichigo joins in and elation swells effervescent and heady in his chest. And Ichigo starts kissing him all over, anywhere he can reach, with tender presses that turn that tingly bubble into a colorful thing so bright it makes his eyes water. Ichigo catches a salty dot of that moisture and jerks back as if stung.

"Uryuu…?"

"It's okay, Ichigo," he tells him without hesitation, tilting to deliver a reassuring kiss of his own. "It's the good kind of tears this time."

Licking his lip as if testing the taste for confirmation, Ichigo hesitantly accepts it. He nuzzles against Uryuu like a contented puppy, causing another round of chuckles for the image.

"I want to make you smile," Ichigo says against his collar bone. "Want to hear you laugh every single day. I never want to see you sad again."

"That's quite a goal," snickers Uryuu, ticklish from his warm breath. "Are you sure you're up to the job?"

"_Definitely_."

He thought it was idle chatter, just a bit of light flirting without real intent. But the way Ichigo is looking at him makes him rethink that assumption. Almost somber, he gazes at Uryuu hard enough to memorize him. The words are meant as an offer. A promise. A request. So Uryuu takes it completely seriously.

"Will you stay?"

"If you'll let me," comes a reply so soft and unsure it breaks Uryuu's heart. Ichigo leans up on an elbow to look at him fully. "I don't deserve you—don't even deserve your forgiveness after what I did to you. I thought I was protecting you but I was such an idiot. You were offering everything I could want and I threw it back in your face. I'm sor—"

"If you apologize one more time, so help me…" Ichigo's eyes widen at that and he snaps his mouth shut, lips curling in a contrite smile. "I understand why you did it, you fool. You don't have to explain it to me. I forgive you."

Those three simple words bring some hidden wall tumbling down inside Ichigo. His face contorts into something equal-parts redemption and joy. The sight of it triggers a sympathetic pang that has Uryuu reaching for him. He cradles Ichigo's head against his chest and feels him breathe, quick and arrhythmic. The man grips Uryuu's shoulders for dear life as he shudders with it. A gasping mumble is barely intelligible.

"Could you ever love someone like us?"

One sentence and Uryuu's world resolves to its basic elements. Things like Ichigo's mental illness, his criminal background, and even potential threats in the future cease to matter, if they ever did. Curing Ichigo was never really about scrubbing Tensa, Zangetsu, and Shirosaki out of existence. It was always about accepting them and working together as a whole. Getting past his mistakes and the hardship that caused them by accepting _all of himself_ for the first time. Uryuu is already there and he's sure Ichigo will reach that revelation someday soon. Until then, he will remain by Ichigo's side and offer whatever he needs to get there.

Uryuu pulls back enough to look into Ichigo's eyes. Beyond the fear and vulnerability on the surface, he sees Ichigo's limitless strength. His enduring compassion and innocence. A man so ready to offer the love that fills his soul to the brim. And it's all Uryuu's.

With a wide, happy smile Uryuu kisses his forehead and says, "I do love you, Ichigo. All of you."

* * *

><p>AN: Epilogues will be up tomorrow. Happy New Year, everybody!<p> 


	16. Epilogue - Angel

AN: Apologies to anyone who was anxiously awaiting these epilogues! I didn't die, I just fell very ill with a flu I caught from my family over the holidays. Go figure. So I spent the past four days sleeping, basically...Anyway, here is the first of two epilogues. This is the "uber-happy" ending!

* * *

><p>Two years after Ichigo's return, things are going almost too well to be real. Shortly after he made up with Uryuu they moved into a new flat together, closer to Ichigo's family members and Uryuu's workplace. Also within walking distance of the university where Ichigo is finally studying to earn his doctorate, thanks to his father's help. Uryuu offered to assist, too, but Ichigo convinced him to save it for when they eventually adopt kids. You can never start a college-fund too early.<p>

"Where did I put my cufflinks," he hears Uryuu mutter to himself across the room. "I could've sworn..."

"They're on the bathroom counter."

"Oh! Thanks."

"No problem."

Retrieving the shining pins from their en-suite restroom, Uryuu pauses in applying them to his shirt to give Ichigo a quick, appreciative kiss. A combination of the fancy cologne he used, the nice clothes he is wearing, and the happy color on his cheeks urges Ichigo to grab Uryuu and kiss him properly before he can stride from the room. As usual, one taste quickly overpowers them and Uryuu forcefully disengages before they start undoing all their hard work getting ready.

"We're going to be late," he firmly reminds, in spite of his gaze being locked onto Ichigo's mouth. "You can kiss me as much as you want later. After we get back from this party. All right?"

"Promise?" Uryuu grins and shakes his head at Ichigo's eager expression. "It's my birthday, after all."

"Yes, yes. Special birthday sex is a given," he confirms with another quick peck. "Later. Come on, before your sisters start texting us."

They spend the drive to Isshin's house reminiscing about past birthdays and making plans for future ones. Uryuu makes the mistake of humming along to a song on the radio, which urges Ichigo to demand he sing aloud, which turns into Uryuu serenading him as they pull up in the driveway.

Beaming and flush with laughter, the two of them are greeted by the whole Kurosaki clan, including Yuzu's husband and Karin's wife. Everyone takes a turn hugging the new arrivals and Uryuu pauses to hold his nephew-in-law, Yuzu's tiny son. Isshin flops an arm around Ichigo's shoulders and mock-punches his chin.

"I heard you and Uryuu are thinking of adopting a little cherub of your own soon."

"Yeah, in another year or so. Ukitake-sensei already gave me the official stamp of 'You're Cured!' so there shouldn't be any legal problems. I just want to finish my degree first."

"That's a fine plan, m'boy!"

"When are you going to marry the nice lady you've been dating?" he fires back, smiling at the kind-eyed woman in question setting the table in the next room. "Haven't you waited long enough?"

"You can't rush these things," Isshin waves dramatically as he reddens. "Hasn't Uryuu taught you anything yet?"

"Not nearly enough, I fear," said tutor replies for him. Uryuu reluctantly hands over the baby and moves to stand beside Ichigo, who instantly takes firm hold of his hand. "If Ichigo had his way we'd have three children and four pets by now."

"It's your fault I want more pets. Nel is too adorable for her own good! And it's your fault I want kids, too. Seeing you holding a baby is just so..."

Smiling like he knows exactly what Ichigo means, Uryuu nods and gently squeezes his hand. Then the doorbell rings and a dozen of their friends come pouring in from outside. Cheers, congratulations, and greetings resound in the best kind of chaos as more hugs are exchanged. Chad, Keigo, Tatsuki, and Mizuiro gang up to try squeezing him to death. Orihime and Uryuu's ex-lawyer calmly file in. Uryuu's coworker and friend Shiba Kaien, who it turns out is Ichigo's distant cousin, is next. Even Ichigo's old roommates stop by to wish him well.

Through all the chatting and horseplay, eating and drinking, retelling of stories and jokes, Ichigo feels his heart expanding to compensate for so much love in one building. This levity is something he never imagined possible after all those years spent in anguish. Having it now is akin to being granted early admission into corporeal Heaven. And if this is Heaven, then Uryuu is his Angel, his guiding light, his savior. Yeah, he can totally see Uryuu with wings and a halo. Especially considering how much white he likes to wear.

Ichigo's grin is going to become a permanent fixture, he's sure of it.

Hours after the party and minutes after indulging in Uryuu's earlier promise, Ichigo pours shampoo onto his hands to lather into messy black hair. Uryuu smoothes a soapy cloth across Ichigo's chest. Every time they catch each other's eye, they can't help grinning a little wider.

The kiss they inevitably share will not lead to more this time, but that's okay. Ichigo knows they have many, many years ahead of them to act on their desire for one another. For now, it's enough to express simple affection and revel in the intimacy they have cultivated. For now, Ichigo is content watching the way Uryuu's eyelashes flutter as he leans back to rinse off.

They snuggle in their bed, warm and dry and clean. Uryuu is breathing these happy little hums he never realizes he's making until Ichigo teases him for it. Nel jumps up with a tinny jingle of her collar's bell and curls up beside them. Between her purring and Uryuu's humming, Ichigo finds himself slipping towards sleep faster than he'd prefer.

"Uryuu."

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," he automatically responds. A few seconds later, he adds, "For what?"

"Everything." It comes out strained and Uryuu turns to watch him in concern. "Thank you for helping me when no one else could. For having the patience and strength to put up with me when it would've been so much easier to give up. Thanks for being you, the man I will love until the day I die."

"Ichigo," he calls in a soothing, understanding whisper. The slim fingers of his left hand reach up to trace down the side of Ichigo's face. Ichigo captures them in his right and kisses the open palm.

"Thank you for fixing me. Thank you for making all the suffering worth it." Uryuu leans their foreheads together and Ichigo sighs into the simple embrace. "Most of all, Uryuu, thank you for loving me more than I could ever hope to deserve."

"You're welcome, Ichigo." Softly smiling again, Uryuu kisses him like it's the first time and the last time, just as they always do. Just as they always will. "And thank you."


	17. Epilogue - Demon

AN: This is almost more of a shorter part two than a true epilogue, I suppose, but I'm putting it here for the sake of keeping the entire work cohesive. This is the "unhappy" ending.

Additional warnings for this chapter include: mature themes, graphic descriptions of torture, and character death (you'll just have to read to find out who it is).

* * *

><p>A crash of tinkling glass wakes them from deep sleep. Ichigo jolts upright as Uryuu blinks in confusion.<p>

"Did you hear that," he whispers to Uryuu when he sits up to look around. "Sounded like it came from the kitchen."

"Where are you going? It was probably Nel knocking something over..."

"I'm just going to make sure."

He doesn't bother telling Uryuu to stay put; Ichigo already knows he won't. So they carefully pad into their hallway, across the living room, and peer around the archway bordering the kitchen. Brushing glittery shards from ripped jeans, Grimmjaw looks up and grins at the pair of them gawking in the doorway.

"Yo, Ishida. Kurosaki."

"What the fuck, man?" Ichigo yells as Uryuu wordlessly turns around and goes to grab his phone. "We don't hear a peep from your for over two years and suddenly you're breaking into our flat?"

"I got bored."

"When are you going to learn that it's never gonna happen with you and Uryuu? He's with me now."

Dialing down the grin to a sly smirk, Grimmjaw takes two slow steps forward and raises his hands in surrender when Ichigo bristles. He hears Uryuu talking with the police in the next room. All they have to do is keep the tension to a minimum until they arrive to carry this lunatic away. Breaking and entering in addition to violating the restraining order Uryuu keeps renewed just in case, he's not liable to get off easily this time.

"Actually, I came to talk to you, Kurosaki."

"Is that so?"

"Got a question for ya."

"As if I'm inclined to do you any favors when you break a window to creep in here in the middle of the night!"

"I was just wonderin' if the rumors are true. Did yer ma really bite it when you were still a brat?" Stiffening, Ichigo scowls and keeps his mouth shut so he won't start screaming. "Word on the street is they never found the maniac who did it. Isn't that right?"

"How would we know, Grimm?" Rejoining the party, Uryuu folds his arms across his chest and glares so heartlessly it chills Ichigo from seeing it second-hand. "Even if the murderer was never apprehended it's in Ichigo's best interest to let it go. Keep it in the past. Which is where I meant to leave you."

"Aw, Baby, that's cold," he chides with a fake shiver. "And here I came to give you a heads-up."

"What are you talking about?" Ichigo demands. Grimmjaw's smile comes back full-force.

"Let's just say...a little birdie told me he might be back in town to finish some business. Tie up loose ends." Both speechless, the brief silence falls heavily on their piqued ears. "So, Ishida, I might be seeing you very soon."

"You son of a—"

"And you, Kurosaki, I'll never see you again."

Before Ichigo can lunge at him, Grimmjaw snickers and hops back out the busted window he came through. Uryuu stops him when he makes to follow.

"Ignore him, Ichigo. He's infamous for his lies."

"It's true, though," he murmurs back, turning to face his partner with no small measure of anxiety. "They never caught him."

"What are the chances someone like that would remain free and alive after all this time? There's a reason we don't hear about murder sprees on the news every day."

Uryuu draws him into a comforting hug and Ichigo leans into it with a deep sigh. But the nagging panic in the back of his mind tells him this isn't over. There was too much anticipatory glee in Grimmjaw's icy eyes to discount his warning.

* * *

><p>Two weeks later Ichigo is still thinking about it. He contacted the man who rescued him from his mother's murderer all those years ago, Urahara Kisuke. He was pleasantly surprised to hear from Ichigo, especially that he has been doing so well, but he had no extra information to impart. Although Urahara promised to keep an ear perked for any news.<p>

Uryuu tells him not to be so paranoid. They worked out a plan of action in case of another home invasion and otherwise promised to be careful when traveling alone. Beyond that any more worry is unnecessary, according to his ex-shrink. Ichigo does his best to listen, but he can't shake the feeling that something is off.

Which is why he instantly goes into red-alert at the sight of a body in the street. They are on their way home from a late dinner party in Uryuu's car, slamming on the brakes when headlights illuminate an unmistakable shape. Ichigo pulls out his phone but frowns because he has no service. Uryuu's isn't much better.

"A combination of poor weather and the remote location," he mumbles up at the rumbling clouds as he tosses his phone to the dash. "I'm going to go check on that person and administer first-aid if necessary. Keep trying to call an ambulance."

"Uryuu, wait! I'm coming with you."

"Ichigo—"

"I'm coming."

"All right," Uryuu concedes, sensing his alarm.

They get out together, leaving the car running and the headlights on. Crunching gravel on the woods-adjacent back road, Ichigo calls out to the brownish lump as Uryuu kneels down to check for a pulse. He snatches his hand away in surprise.

"What is it?"

"He's stone-cold," Uryuu glances up to announce. "Been dead for hours."

Ichigo goes rigid. "Get back in the car. Now!"

As he says it, the Saab goes quiet and dark, shut off by a tall figure draped in black. Ichigo darts over to grab Uryuu and pull him close, glancing all around just in case. Without the headlights, their rural surroundings are pitch black. Why do they have to have friends who live so far from the city?

"It's all right, Ichigo. Stay calm; this may be a misunderstanding. If nothing else, there are two of us and one of him." Raising his voice to address the man slowly straightening from his crouch over the driver's seat, "Are you hurt? We'd be happy to drive you to a hospital. I'm a doctor if you'd rather be treated here."

"Doctor..."

The word hisses out with in a rough baritone that raises the hairs on the back of Ichigo's neck. His face is obscured in the folds of a low hood. Uryuu takes a hesitant step towards him and Ichigo tightens his grip on his forearm.

"Uryuu, don't."

"He could be a victim of a car accident or something like that. What if this is his friend and he's been waiting out here for help all night? These roads aren't frequently traveled."

"Yeah, but-"

"Do you need help?"

"Help..." the stranger croons. Uryuu nods and steps closer.

"Let us help you. I'll tend to your wounds now and we can go into town for—Ah!"

Gasping with wide eyes, Uryuu reaches a hand up to his chest, where a red-tufted dart sprouts from his heart. Ichigo shouts and catches him as Uryuu drops like a stone. Hot-cold panic spikes through Ichigo as he plucks the little metallic thing out and lowers Uryuu gently to the ground. Tears spring to his eyes and he wipes angrily at them for clouding his vision. A few drops patter to Uryuu's sleep-slackened face but do not wake him.

"Uryuu? Wake up, Uryuu!"

"Doctor down," confirms the robed man from beside Ichigo. "You next."

He jerks his head up at that and flinches as he is shot with the same sedative. Ichigo barely has time to gasp in a breath before the burning chemical eclipses his consciousness.

* * *

><p>An uncomfortable combination of rough metal, cold concrete, and harsh light gradually pulls Ichigo back to wakefulness. He blinks stinging eyes and waits for them to adjust as he tries to roll to a sitting position. Heavy chains bind his hands and feet to a sturdy ring bolted into the wall beside him. He dimly realizes that nothing short of unhinging that anchor will free him, since he can't get the manacles off his ankles without a key. Immediately tugging at his restraints, Ichigo scans the room for Uryuu and their captor. His actions still as he finds them.<p>

Uryuu is still knocked out, tied to a metal chair on the far side of the cavernous space. The ceiling is low and the plain walls lack windows but there is only one simple door barred from the inside. The stranger stands before it and glances at Ichigo before striding towards a narrow table near Uryuu. It's too far to see what that surface supports, but he can make a morbid guess.

"Who the hell are you?" Ichigo shouts to shift the focus to himself instead. "Why are you doing this?"

No response is forthcoming. The room is so quiet that Ichigo hears the tiny snap of smelling salts soon used to rouse Uryuu. He coughs and shakes his head, leaning away from the offensive odor. Then he freezes as his eyes lock onto the malevolent form lurking in front of him.

"Doctor," the creep cheerily greets in that slow, garbled cadence. "Nice nap?"

"What have you done with Ichigo?"

"I'm here!" he loudly answers. "I'm okay, Uryuu. Did he hurt you?"

That monster's fiendish chuckle halts Uryuu's reply, but his expression says it all: not yet. Ichigo growls and rips at the chains as he stumbles to a teetering stand. His fuzzy brain pounds from the sedative's after-effects but he does his best to breathe past it. He'll be damned if he's going to sit by and let this happen!

Solid footsteps echo around their prison and Ichigo looks up to watch the robed man heading over to him.

"Where are you going?" Uryuu demands with a hint of panic in his tone. "Leave him out of this. I'm in this chair for a reason, aren't I?"

Gaping in shock, Ichigo shouts, "Shut up, Uryuu! Don't encourage the murderer to attack you!"

"Well, what am I supposed to do?" he cries and starts straining against the tight cords holding him in place. "I can't let him hurt you any more than you can let him hurt me! And this chair is bolted to the ground..."

By the time the man reaches him, Ichigo hasn't dislodged so much as a tuft of dust from the loop in the wall. He snarls at his captor and gets backhanded to the floor for his trouble. Uryuu yells his name but Ichigo is too busy spitting out a mouthful of blood to calm him. A knee pushes against his chest, pinning him in place and making breathing difficult.

"Kurosaki Ichigo," the killer ominously intones. "I have come to kill you, Kurosaki Ichigo."

"Fuck you!"

"So many years I searched for the bright-haired boy whose pretty mother I took."

He speaks with the strained pace and awkward diction of someone unused to casual speech. At this distance, Ichigo can see him clearly, the same bone-white mask and piercing, soulless eyes from that day by the river. Indistinct stains splotch across that mask, now much dirtier than it had ever been before. A smothering terror begins to set into him.

"Urahara should've killed you when he had the chance," he pants past the rising fear. "He should've let me bleed out and chased you down instead. How many more lives have you taken because he saved me?"

"Urahara," comes the thoughtful grunt of someone adding to a list. "He injured me. Set the dogs on me. Forced me into hiding."

"Good!"

"Ichigo, stop antagonizing him!"

"He's not letting us go anyway. Might as well make him suffer as much as possi—Gah!"

The bastard rises to kick Ichigo in the stomach. He coughs and braces his arms over his middle, curling inward, but the heavy heel lands on his unguarded shoulder. The crack of a thin bone is lost in Ichigo's startled shout.

"Stop! Leave him alone!" Ichigo grits his teeth to silence himself and looks over at Uryuu, seeing him put on his patent calculating face. "You wanted to hurt me first, didn't you? You want Ichigo to watch."

"NO!" he screams as the man grins at that. "Don't you touch him!"

But he is already clomping towards Uryuu. Ichigo bites back agonized whimpers as he yanks futilely at those cursed chains. His collar bone is fractured on the left side. It is in serious danger of snapping in half if he keeps struggling, throbbing with warning fire and acid, but he can't bring himself to stop trying.

"How did you find us? You said it took you a long time to find Ichigo. They never printed his name in the papers when his mother was murdered, did they?"

"No."

"Because he was a minor, and because you were never captured. How did you escape?"

"Underground."

"You've been living off the grid, homeless, all this time."

"His fault!"

The quiet groan of pain from Uryuu hurts Ichigo more than any physical injury ever could. His renewed pleas go ignored as he watches the demon from his nightmares strike the savior of his dreams. Blood oozes from a shallow cut on Uryuu's pale cheek and from the corner of his mouth. His breaths come shallow and tight between blows. Still he doesn't cry out.

"Ichigo's escape infuriated you," Uryuu tenaciously continues when the man backs off for a moment. "You couldn't enjoy the deaths of other victims knowing that little boy was healthy and whole in spite of you. You had to find him."

"I'll make him wish he died with his momma!"

"Uryuu, please," Ichigo chokes through a crushing wave of misery as his words incur more punishment. "Please stop talking."

He knows this ploy because it was his plan, too. Take the criminal's attention off his lover while trying to break free or just desperately stall the inevitable. Uryuu is more suited to it, though, since he has the training to navigate psychotic murderers better than anyone. If that means he has to take the abuse, Ichigo would rather he didn't even try.

Ichigo knows now that he won't be able to get loose on his own. There are limits to human strength when confronted with stone and metal.

"The papers printed his name and a mug shot after the incident with Aizen and Ichimaru. That's how you found him."

"Yes," he disinterestedly confirms, turning to the table to grab what looks like a long knife.

"But the way you used to do things wouldn't work this time. You couldn't just snatch him off the streets in broad daylight or you really would be caught." The silver gleam of that blade glints in the fluorescent lights and Ichigo can't even summon the will to scream. Uryuu's voice is pinched with anxiety but he continues to stare straight at that evil mask as he speaks. "Taking your time, you gathered your resources—weapons, allies, this building—and made a plan. It took two years to prepare and find your way to an opening in our schedule. Staging an accident in the road was the easy part."

"Smart doctor. Pretty necklace."

The whining rip of fabric makes Ichigo jolt. Chest exposed, Uryuu heaves and clenches his jaw in preparation for the initial slice he cannot prevent. Ichigo holds his breath in abject horror. It comes in the seeping shape of a vertical line dead-center along his sternum. Uryuu huffs a short, strangled sound and snaps his eyes shut.

Before he raises his hand for the next cut, Uryuu mutters, "You think this will fill the void inside you? What will happen when the only goal you've held onto for nearly two decades is completed?"

His words bring momentary pause. Then the man sets the blade back to his skin. Slowly, one slice at a time, a perfect pentagram matching Uryuu's grandfather's necklace is drawn in thin red lines. Uryuu lets his head droop forward as the monster steps back to admire his handiwork. Ichigo doesn't even realize he is crying until he tastes salt in his open mouth.

"You sick bastard," Ichigo whispers, then repeats as loud as he can muster. "Pathetic excuse of a human being! I'm so glad you've suffered. I can't wait to see you in Hell!"

Toting the knife back towards Ichigo, the demon stoops to peer into his eyes. He can't see the expression beneath the mask, but he imagines there must be a wide, malicious grin involved. Then the man stabs three inches of the blade into Ichigo's thigh. Wretched laughter rivals his bellow of agony.

He forces his eyes open to watch the monster hovering over him just in time to see those gleeful eyes flare wide in surprise. Ichigo watches him fall to his knees, gurgling grotesquely under the mask, and Uryuu is standing behind him with a deep grimace of hatred. Reaching ineffectively behind himself, the man dribbles blood down his neck and chest. He cries out as Uryuu gives a wrenching twist of the large knife he has jabbed directly into the left lung.

Uryuu mercilessly rips the blade out and allows the man to tumble at his feet in lieu of unlocking Ichigo's cuffs with a key he must have swiped from the table. They get all four opened and Uryuu carefully removes the knife from his leg. He whips off his tattered shirt to use as a tourniquet.

"You got loose," Ichigo says to distract himself from the fresh surge of pain. "I didn't think you could."

"If I was anyone else, I couldn't. Turns out all that sewing and stitching came in handy and I was able to loosen the knot. Not fast enough, though."

"Are you kidding? We're alive, Uryuu! That's all that matters."

Ichigo presses an appreciative palm to his cheek and meets his watery gaze. Uryuu presses a grateful kiss to his forehead and murmurs an apology. Then he turns to the slowly suffocating beast on the ground and deliberately slides the knife between his ribs and into his right lung. Ichigo gapes at him.

"Just in case," he says as if he didn't just purposely deliver a mortal wound. "This...thing doesn't deserve prison or a lengthy trial. It doesn't even deserve a swift death."

Although he couldn't agree more, Ichigo is concerned with any mental repercussions this may have on Uryuu later. Yet, the cold expression Uryuu adorns as he waits for their tormentor to expire tells him that won't be a problem.

"Your chest."

Ichigo goes to take off his own shirt to press against the stark wounds but cringes as his fracture is stressed. Uryuu stops him with a gentle hand to his.

"They're shallow. The bleeding has already stopped. See?" Ichigo nods in understanding, though he still doesn't like it. "I'm more concerned about your leg."

"It's fine; missed the bone."

Both of them jerk their attention back onto the criminal as he gives one last rattling exhale and a disturbing series of full-body twitches. He quiets and Ichigo leans forward to push up the edge of his mask. It clatters to the ground with a hollow thump. Beneath that macabre mask, he is just a man.

"Not a real demon after all."

"He'll be one soon," Uryuu swears. He gives Ichigo an assessing look. "In Hell where he belongs. Not you."

"Let's get out of here."

"Ichigo?" he calls to get his attention, helping him limp out of the abandoned building. "How do you feel?"

"Anxious. Afraid. Fucking furious." Ichigo takes a steadying breath as they step into the street and head towards a cluster of street lights and business signs. "Relieved. Lucky. The nightmare has finally ended and we've survived."

"We always will."

* * *

><p>AN: Argh! I guess it ended kind of happy after all. Oh, well. This is officially the end and I hope you enjoyed the ride!<p> 


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